Legal Rites Book One: Legal Rites, #1
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She's got a destiny, and it's all tied up in him.
Madeleine Macy is a magical enforcement officer. She doesn't have power, but boy does she have a razor sharp wit. She meets her match in Valstein, a powerful vampire of noble descent who's about to become a massive pain in her butt.
When one of the most respected vampire lords in Knight City is brutally murdered, Madeleine is thrown together with Valstein to solve the case before it's too late. You see, if it's too late, Madeline dies. And Valstein really can't have that - not until he finds out who she is and - more to the point - who's been hiding her from him.
….
Legal Rites follows a wisecracking witch detective and a vampire with dangerous secrets fighting a shadowy magical council. If you love your urban fantasies with action, humor, and a splash of romance, grab Legal Rites Book One today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.
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Legal Rites Book One - Odette C. Bell
1
Staring at this guy never gets old.
And yeah, that’s a pun. Because not only is he great to look at, but the bastard never ages, either.
I’m careful not to let any of my thoughts show as I sit there, perched on the edge of that expensive Regency chair, ensuring my skirt shows just enough knee without revealing the whole kit and caboodle. You see, you’ve got to be very careful when dealing with vampires, especially those as old and powerful as Valstein. No, that doesn’t mean he’s going to fall over like a geriatric tumbling down a set of stairs anytime soon.
Just the opposite. It’s the old and powerful ones that are truly lithe. They’re the kinds of bastards to jump up the side of a building and run you right across town without breaking a sweat.
They’re also… now, how am I going to point this out without being lewd?
Oh hell, no point. You can’t discuss one of the Calstan class of vampires without discussing, ah… sex.
There, I said it. If I’ve offended your sensibilities, I’m sorry. But like I said, there’s no way around it.
Calstan class vampires are… driven. Let’s put it that way. Really, really driven. They aren’t like your ordinary class of vampire. The lower-class fiends are really only in it for the blood. The more red juice, the merrier. But blood will only get those lower-class stooges so far. With the new night-limiting laws really stymieing how many lower-class vamps can hunt the city streets, I don’t have to deal with too many of those bastards these days.
There are tried-and-true methods of helping them shuffle off their mortal coil, anyway. No, I’m not talking a stake to the heart. Good luck getting close enough to a technically immortal being who would just love a close-up of your jugular as you foolishly try to stake his heart like you’re pitching a tent in his rib cage. He would rip out your throat faster than you can say, Damn.
Guns? Yeah, guns are just as effective against vampires as they are on road signs, cans at fairs, and people’s heads. You pack them with enough enchanted dust, and they’ll take down even the lithest lower-class vampire.
Oh, I said that word again, didn’t I?
Lithe. The one word that sums up Valstein more than any other. He’s got muscles, don’t get me wrong. And technically, he’s got the kind of vampire muscles that could see him stop a train in its tracks, let alone frame his tall, rigid form as he stands behind his desk, back to me, head tilted toward the view of the city down on the horizon.
Sorry, I keep getting sidetracked, don’t I?
All you need to keep up with me are these two little facts. I don’t care about lower-class vampires. All I have to do is grab the gun that’s magically been soldered into my aura and return them to the dust from which they came.
Calstans? Who are otherwise known just as the Nobility?
Hmmm. Yeah. Controlling them is like attempting to control a wildfire with nothing more than a piece of paper. I don’t have any tools in my magical arsenal to kill them, let alone make them submit to justice.
I do like that word,
he suddenly says.
Crap.
Though I’m trying to hold myself in a dignified, controlled manner as I continue to perch on the edge of my chair, I can’t help but stiffen my lips and press them hard against my teeth, swallowing a swearword.
I just left my thoughts unguarded, and the dear little noble vampire skimmed what I was thinking right off the top of my mind.
Though he’s been ignoring me almost the entire meeting as he waits for one of his lower-class punks to satisfy the evidence request I slammed on his desk 10 minutes ago, now he turns.
Oh, hello – no male model could ever match the view of him as little rays of silver-kissed moonlight penetrate the glass behind him, lighting up one side of his body while casting the other into darkness. And yeah, you don’t really need to be a physicist to appreciate that that shouldn’t be possible. The moonlight is technically striking all of his body, but it’s only illuminating one side while casting the other into everlasting shadow.
He’s still got his hands clasped behind his back, and my stomach clenches. It’s not because I’m suddenly overcome with thoughts of things I’d really love his hands to do for me, it’s because I would prefer to see what he’s doing with them. I don’t think he’s plucked out his phone and is texting while pretending to have a conversation with me. Nor do I think he’s suddenly found a knife and is hiding it as he waits for the perfect opportunity to slit my pretty throat.
Nope. But there are plenty of other things a noble like him could be doing with simple bone and skin. You see, while to a lower-class vampire their teeth are their true weapon, to a noble, it’s their entire body. And for this guy, though I’ve only seen him a few times, he seems to have a real big thing for hands.
I bet he knows how to use them,
Calista mutters in my mind.
I jolt. I’m not expecting it.
You’d think I would be expecting it.
This is not my first rodeo, kids. I’ve been doling out partial justice for years now. Hell, I even have a commendation – that’s right, an actual commendation. It’s a certificate, and it’s currently sitting in my mom’s lounge. And before you say something snide, I’m seriously proud of that fact.
This is a hard job.
Doling out partial justice was never going to be an easy pastime. To think, I was a part-time pizza chef before I signed up for the magical policing course.
Now?
I’m respected by my superiors as someone who can get things done even when the odds are stacked against them.
Valstein’s watching me. You’d think, considering how good I’m meant to be, that I’d be focusing on his darting gaze, shoring up my mental defenses, and maintaining complete control over my thoughts.
Yeah, Mads, I would be thinking that. But since the moment you met this guy, you’ve been letting his sex magic get the better of you.
Do you mind? And we’ve gone over this a thousand times, don’t call it that.
What? Sex magic?
Yes. That. It’s way more complicated than that. And a noble’s magic doesn’t just come from…
I trail off, cutting the thought short.
You can’t even say it, can you?
Calista laughs right in my ear, her less than lilting chuckle like fingernails on a blackboard. It’s sex, Mads. The other guardians are right – you are a prude.
I am not a prude!
I think back to my guardian.
She snorts. And let me tell you, it is not a pleasant experience to have somebody snort in your head.
Though, technically, that’s not where Calista is. She, like my magical gun, is attached to my aura. I know what you’re thinking. Auras are some hippie mumbo-jumbo that are meant to give an insight into your mood. Yeah, magical auras are slightly different. They’re more like a seriously handy pocket of space that only you can access. You can’t keep your keys or a spare packet of tissues in there, though. It’s strictly accessible only to objects and creatures who have aligned with your aura. And it’s a tricky, complicated affair to get the alignment right.
I’m digressing, though. You don’t care about that, do you? You don’t give a single hoot that all of my strongest magical protections are at this very moment in my aura, permanently accessible by me at any moment, anywhere. Nor do you care that – technically – the greatest asset I have as a magical enforcer is my guardian, and she’s also permanently accessible through my aura. Yeah, that’s right – permanently. I can be half asleep or in the bath, only for Calista’s grating, husky, whiskey-voice to ring loudly in my head like an alcoholic blues singer who’s jumped into my ear.
What you care about is what she’s pointing out. Don’t lie. You’re laughing your ass off that I’m a prude. And I guess… look… I am a prude.
Unlike a lot of my other magical enforcer colleagues, I have never given in to a noble.
Despite how… ah, uniquely pleasurable it’s meant to be.
You know, though you’re irritating Valstein, if you ask for a free taste—
Calista begins.
Would you just shut the hell up? I’m on official business now. I don’t need your protection as my guardian. I just need some peace and quiet to question this guy.
Question? You’ve just been making less-than-witty mental remarks about his personal proclivities while staring at his perfect body. I don’t call that—
Do you think it will take much longer for your aide to fulfill the information request?
I ask, realizing I can’t exactly just sit here and watch him as he watches me.
I’m not a fish in an aquarium.
Oh, sweetie, he’s not looking at you like you’re a fish in an aquarium. Fish are already naked. Nope. That particular flicker in his eye? Yeah, it’s the look of a noble who just wants to undress you one piece of clothing at a time—
Calista! You’re really not helping. If you keep this up, he’s going to wonder why I’m distracted, put two and two together, and realize I’ve got a guardian.
Oh, poor, naïve, Madeleine Macy. He already knows. This is not your run-of-the-mill, garden-variety noble.
His eyes are on me again. Okay, they’ve never left me. But right now, the intensity of his gaze… it kind of makes me feel like someone’s just poured oil down my top. Weird image, right? Not really. It’s kind of sticky and hot and makes me wriggle.
You get the point.
But as I have said many times, I will not submit to a vampire.
Though it’s not unusual for a vampire – especially a noble – to just stare at you like you’re a picture in a gallery, Valstein suddenly cracks a smile. It’s slow, and it draws all my attention to the left side of his lips as they curl into his cheeks. Fond of that word, aren’t you?
I blink quickly. Sorry? What are you talking about—
Submit,
he says. He does something with his voice. I’m not entirely sure if it’s magical, or if this noble was born with a late-night radio host timbre that makes you way too aware of your pelvis.
I smile. Not a natural move, suffice to say. It’s that pale, pressed-lip curl you give people when you’re trying seriously hard not to react.
His gaze gets distracted for a little as he stares around the room, then, like a spring snapping back in on itself, it locks on me.
There’s power behind it. Sure, it doesn’t feel like I’ll be bowled off my feet, but that’s not the point. You see, you stare too long into a noble’s gaze, and they can wend their way into more than your sights. You know before how I talked about a magical aura and how only things that are aligned with you can be held inside it? Yeah, I’m suddenly reminded of the fact that extremely powerful, old nobles can find their way into your magical aura with sight alone.
And that is the last place I want this guy.
So I quickly dart my gaze away, demurely tucking my fringe behind my ears as if a few strands of loose hair is way more interesting than the veritable sex god to my side.
Just before the situation can spiral down and tug what’s left of my self-worth with it, there’s finally a knock on the door. I look up like a hopeful puppy as the door creaks open and in scurries one of Valstein’s staff. Though scurry isn’t really the right word. He kind of floats, doesn’t he? Because the guy, like every single poor sucker who works for Valstein, is a vampire. Not nearly as strong as the noble himself, but hardly your average, everyday scum-sucker, either.
In a testament to how much I want to get this done and get the hell out of Valstein’s office, I pretty much shoot to my feet as if I’ve been shot from a cannon. There isn’t a single sarcastic insult in my head, even though Valstein’s aide treated me like shit when I arrived unannounced at his mansion half an hour ago.
Is that my evidence?
I ask sweetly, using the sycophantic, candy-cane sugar voice of someone who’s willing to tell you anything if only you’ll leave them alone.
The guy comes to a stop several meters away from the door, places his hands in front of himself, and bows, never making eye contact with Valstein.
I wonder if that’s self-defense. Yeah, I know – first hand – how powerful Valstein’s gaze is, but I assumed he just turns it up for hapless little humans. But now I imagine even his scum-sucking staff don’t like dealing with it.
Valstein shifts past me. Close enough that I can feel the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt brush against my arm.
I know better than to shiver and jerk back, even though I didn’t hear or see him move beside me. Last time I looked, he’d been several meters away by his desk. But in a split second that had changed.
The hair along the back of my neck stands on end, and I press my tongue hard against the roof of my mouth. Like I’ve said so many times before, this is definitely not my first rodeo. I know how fast a noble can move. Shifting the space of several meters in under a split second is nothing to this guy. He could take on an entire army, if he wanted to.
Oh, I think he’s more of a lover than a fighter,
Calista suddenly says in my ear.
Dammit, I’m not expecting it, and I shiver.
Though the aide was standing there with his hands locked in front of himself and his head directed at the ground, almost like a wolf smelling blood, he darts his gaze up and locks it on me. What is the human doing?
Oh, the human is just conversing with her guardian,
Valstein replies smoothly with only one flick of his glance my way.
Bastard.
Of course he knows. You weren’t very subtle about me,
Calista says. And I’ve told you before, this isn’t your garden-variety vampire. He would have pegged you as having a guardian the second you walked into his office.
I don’t bother replying to Calista, because she’s right.
Still, I hate revealing to perps that I have a bonded guardian. It’s my ace in the hole.
The aide narrows his eyes, and I see his yellowed, slitlike pupils constrict until he looks like a cat that’s about to pounce. Guardian? Her? I sense no special gifts,
he spits. Then he looks me right up and down as if I’m a slab of meat on a butcher’s hook. This ugly, small human is not worthy of such a gift.
I’m sorry, ugly, small human? If it weren’t for the fact the aide was currently holding my evidence request, I’d storm over there and punch him right on the jaw.
Yeah, I get it, I am nowhere near as good-looking as most vampire babes. But they have a little bit of help there – not only are they immortal, but they can use magic to alter and bolster their appearance. No sagging skin and cellulite for them. They don’t even have to book in an expensive, ineffective treatment with a plastic surgeon. All they have to do is find someone they like the look of and drink their blood.
And you know what, just fuck that guy generally. I may not be much to look at, and I may not have a physically impressive build. And yeah, I’m not the greatest magician out there. I don’t have some special destiny, and I sure as hell haven’t inherited unusual powers, as the scientists call them.
But you know what I do have?
Grit.
Yeah, I’m the kind of girl to chase you through the streets and never give up, even if I break my damn legs. I’m the kind of girl to tear apart a crime scene for months on end, even when everyone else has given up. I’m also the kind of girl who, once she gets a grudge, never forgets. I don’t need a little black book to remember every asshole who’s crossed my path – they sink right into my brain and remain there until the day I can get my just revenge.
So rather than splutter in indignation at this asshole, I just cross my arms and stare right back at him. I guess it’s lucky for Valstein here you’re just an errand boy and not security. With those deductive skills of yours, it’s a surprise you’re still around,
I say sweetly with a hell of a saccharine smile spreading across my lips.
I can feel Valstein’s gaze on the side of my neck, and I watch out of the corner of my eye as he arches an eyebrow.
As for his aide, the guy practically turns beetroot red. I’ll let you in on a little secret about vampire biology, even though there’s still a lot ordinary humans don’t know. It’s been 10 years now since vampires made themselves known. And in those 10 years, despite the so-called Peace Treaty that was signed between ordinary humans and magical races, scientists have managed to get their hands on the odd vampire in an attempt to figure out how those immortal beings work.
Myth will tell you it’s blood. If a vampire drinks enough blood, he’ll live forever. And the blood will keep him youthful. Yeah, well it’s more than blood. I’m not going to go full-on esoteric on you here, but it’s a lot more to do with life force, movement, and change. That type of shit usually boggles the minds of my colleagues. Even the ones who are a lot more powerful than me. They don’t endeavor to understand magic – they just wield it like a frigging tool. Me? Yeah, even though I used to be a pizza chef before I became a magical enforcement officer, I grew up with a grandfather who loved philosophy. If I’d had the cash back then, I would’ve gone to university. But grandpa had taught me everything he knew, anyway. So the esoteric, mysterious side of magic has never bothered me. I actively study it, in fact. When I’m not prowling through the streets of Knight City, I’m usually online, tracking down rare magical tomes to add to my collection.
But sorry, I’m digressing here, aren’t I?
I promised you a tidbit of important information about the vampires, and here it is. They don’t have blood. Several scientific studies – albeit illicit ones that worked off illegally captured and killed vampires – have proven that fact time and time again. Vampires have circulatory systems, but