The Ian Dex Supernatural Thriller Series: Books 5 - 7 (Las Vegas Paranormal Police Department Box Sets Book 2)

by John P. Logsdon

  “How many of them are there?” asked Rachel.

  “Two,” replied Chuck.

  “Chief,” Jasmine chimed in a moment later, “we’ve got a couple of amalgamites trying to break into my flat here.”

  “We’ve?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at Rachel.

  “Felicia, Serena, and Warren…uh…spent the night.”

  “Nice,” said The Admiral.

  I ignored him, though I had to agree. Well, subtracting Warren from the equation anyway. I knew that Felicia and Jasmine had played together before, and I was also well aware of Serena’s lust for carnal things, but I had no idea they all got busy orgy-style. My guess was that this had to do with them having met the valkyries during our last mission. Those Amazonian babes could start the engine on a rusted-out jalopy.

  There was no time to allow my mind to drift into that fantasy at the moment.

  I was more worried about the amalgamites stuff.

  On the one hand, it’d be great to finally have people in this damn world who understood the things I went through on a daily basis; on the other hand, if they were bad guys—which it seemed they were, that would mean I had a major fight looming in my future.

  A little voice in my head told me that something fishy was going on here.

  “We can’t beat these things off,” Chuck said.

  I fought not to giggle at that, but Rachel’s juvenile grin made that challenging. Ever since she’d turned to the submissive side, she’d become more in tune with my appreciation for naughty humor.

  “Griff’s been casting spells at them like it’s going out of style,” Chuck continued, “but they just heal each other and resume their attack.”

  “Same on this side,” said Felicia. “Jasmine’s been hitting both of them repeatedly with fireballs. They just keep coming and coming.”

  “Definitely sounds like they could be your brothers,” noted Rachel aloud, her smile in full force.

  Honestly.

  “Okay, guys,” I said, “get out of there and meet me down at the station.”

  “There’s no getting out, Chief,” Warren stated as Rachel, Turbo, and I took off back toward The Martin so we could get to my car. “They’ve got runes all around the house. These guys planned this attack really well.”

  “We have the same situation,” announced Griff. “It’s only a matter of time before they break through my defenses.”

  Shit.

  All of my officers were trapped, and it appeared they were being hemmed in by beasties who were just like me. If I had to fight my team one on one in my normal mode, I wouldn’t have a shot. But if I was decked out like I was now, due to that vampire bite, then I could probably destroy them all without much of a fuss.

  That told me that my ‘brothers’ weren’t as powerful as me, though they clearly had multiple facets of their makeup unleashed. Of course, it could also be that they were holding back for some reason. Maybe they weren’t actually interested in killing my team, but rather just taking them hostage like Red had done with Turbo. Another option might be that they preferred to kill by hand. They’d use magic and such to get inside, but then they’d finish the deed in some dastardly way.

  I hoped the latter wasn’t the case, but I wasn’t about to risk it.

  “Lydia,” I called back to the PPD artificial intelligence dispatcher, “have you been listening in?”

  “Yes, puddin’,” she replied.

  This was a little concerning because she had expressly told me before that she never listened in unless she was invited to the call. Now, to be fair, it could have been that she was conferenced in automatically when everyone else joined. Still, with the Directors acting strange over the last number of months, everyone on my crew knew that we had to be careful not to divulge too much information when it came to things like this.

  “Great,” I said, playing as if it didn’t bother me in the least. “I need you to get emergency transport authorizations to the Netherworld PPD for the entire team.”

  “I’ll work on it now, honey cakes,” she replied.

  “Thanks, babe,” I said, playing my part in the flirting so that her chips would keep buzzing. “You’re the best.”

  “I’ll bet you say that to all the AI dispatchers.”

  Considering there was only one that I worked with, no. Clearly, Lydia had been reading through tomes of sinful romances again. It was obvious whenever she did this because she’d pick up a subtle line or two to use on me.

  “Only you, Lydia,” I replied as we got to my Aston Martin. “Only you.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes at me, but she knew the deal. I played the game with Lydia and she gave me special treatment. Her digital crush on me had saved our hides more than once over the years, though, and that meant Rachel didn’t gripe too much about my relationship with our dispatcher.

  “It appears that the Netherworld PPD has been under attack recently, love muffin,” Lydia declared. “There have been riots in the main city center.”

  “Well, that’s not good,” I replied.

  “They won’t allow any transports to the main station, but there are satellite locations we are authorized to use.” A split-second later, she added, “I have a better option, though. I’ve done a check on the team records and it appears that all of you are due for a reintegration cycle within the next forty-five days.”

  I squinted and asked, “How does that help us?”

  “You may attend reintegration any time you wish, as long as you are within a forty-five day window of your due date.”

  I hadn’t known about that. Most supers went out of their way to squeeze every last moment being topside before going through reintegration. That’s because the process sucked, it took you out of your usual routine, and it reset your due date accordingly. In other words, why would anyone want to go early when it just meant that their next reintegration clock would be reset to that day?

  But we needed to get out of here, so we’d deal with it.

  “Fine,” I answered for everyone, knowing they’d likely rather take their chances with the amalgamites instead of face reintegration. “Hook us all up, please.”

  There was a group groan.

  “All of your tattoos have been configured,” Lydia replied. “You may leave at any time.”

  We didn’t use our tattoos very much as topside cops, but the easiest way to transport down for your reintegration cycle was through the ink. You could use a portal station instead, if you wanted, but that seemed like a waste of time to me.

  “Perfect,” I said. “Thanks, Lydia. Everyone, activate your transports now.”

  I didn’t wait for their replies, assuming they knew my words were intended as a command not a suggestion.

  “What about us?” Rachel asked as Turbo landed on her shoulder.

  My initial reaction was that they should head down to safety as well, leaving me up here to see who my ‘brothers’ truly were, but I had the feeling that not even I could handle four amalgamites.

  If I was to face them, I’d need to truly come to grips with my newfound skills.

  That meant training.

  I hated training.

  Not as much as reintegration, but unfortunately I was going to get to do both.

  Yay.

  “Activate your tattoos,” I said with a sigh. “We have some work to do.”

  CHAPTER 6

  I was glad to see my team had made it safely to the Netherworld, but I didn’t think any of us truly wanted to be there.

  Me, especially.

  I was the one who had to go through all sorts of crap because of my various genetic bits.

  The others on my crew only had to deal with their particular race-based issues. Chuck would be put through blood-avoidance training; Felicia would have her hunting instinct tamed; the mages would go through power management courses, which were designed to keep them from attempting to gain dominion over the normals; Turbo would be reminded why he should keep his language to a minimum and also how not to
fling dust at everything; and Warren would undergo self-assurance entrainment so he wouldn’t attempt to summon demons while topside.

  For now, though, we were all here and everyone seemed to be in decent health.

  “Are any of you injured?” I asked.

  “I have a few welts on my bottom,” Warren admitted, “but it wasn’t bad enough that I needed to invoke my safe word or anything.”

  I looked at him. “Ew.”

  “Oh, wait,” he said as his face turned red, “you meant because of the attack, didn’t you?”

  “A little bit, yeah,” I replied before studying the rest of my crew. “You’re all fine?”

  They nodded.

  “Good.”

  “Next in line,” called out a burly looking woman who was obviously a werebear. She then pointed at Warren. “Let’s go, pal. I haven’t got all day.”

  Warren glanced at us and shrugged as he walked up to get his paperwork underway.

  “Any idea who those people were?” asked Chuck. “I thought you were the only amalgamite around?”

  “I thought the same thing,” I answered, sighing. “I don’t suppose any of you took pictures of them?”

  There was a collective squint.

  “We were somewhat preoccupied with trying to stay alive, I’m afraid,” Griff answered for the team.

  “Next!”

  I motioned for Turbo to go get his paperwork done. He already knew my side of the story anyway.

  “The thing I don’t understand,” I began, “is why they sent amalgamites after all of you, but only sent a team of werewolves to wipe out me and Rachel.”

  “That does seem odd,” mused Griff. “The first thing that comes to mind is that they weren’t planning to kill us. Rather, they were just going to capture us to use as a bargaining chip should you somehow survive the assassination attempt.”

  I nodded slowly, since that was similar to what I’d been thinking. But I couldn’t get myself to fully accept that scenario.

  “It just doesn’t add up,” I said finally. “Four amalgamites have a much better chance of killing me than five werewolves.”

  “Valid point,” Griff conceded.

  “Next!”

  I motioned Rachel to go forward. She gave me a stern look. I gave her a sterner look. Her eyebrows wiggled as a mischievous grin crept upon her face. Then she skipped up toward the line.

  Weirdo.

  “It could be that whoever sent the wolves only intended you to be kept occupied,” Serena suggested. “That would give the amalgamites the chance to kill all of us unimpeded.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that, though it was probably the most likely solution to this puzzle.

  “That actually sounds reasonable,” I said after a moment. “It would make it so you couldn’t come and cover my ass once they decided to turn on me, too.”

  “Exactly,” Serena agreed.

  Now the big questions were who put out the hit on all of us and why did they do it? My guess was we had another uber in town. That seemed to be the only time weird shit like this happened. But an uber who could churn out amalgamites seemed rather unlikely, unless he gave them a shot or something that…

  I turned to Griff. “Could a mage or wizard infuse the people you saw with something to make them appear to be like me?”

  “You mean dapper?” asked Chuck with a smile.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Are you on a comedic kick lately or something?”

  “The mage would have to be rather powerful,” Griff answered before Chuck could reply. He was looking away thoughtfully. “It wouldn’t last for long, either, but I suppose it could be done.”

  “So an uber like that Reese guy who had the demon batteries?” I ventured. “Someone like him?”

  Griff gave me a hesitant nod. “Again, it would take an enormous amount of power.”

  “Next!”

  Felicia headed off toward the clerk.

  “All right,” I said as she walked away, “the most likely situation here is that we have another uber on the loose. But this one must have seen what happened to the last ubers who attacked the town.”

  “We destroyed them,” Jasmine stated.

  “Yep.”

  “So, instead of attacking the town,” added Chuck slowly, “this uber has decided to come after us first.”

  “Exactly,” I said, pointing back and forth between my two officers. “And coming down here has probably put the uber on his heels.”

  I didn’t know if that was true, of course, but it made sense. Assuming it was a mage running all of this, I’d imagine that he’d first want to make certain the PPD was out of the picture. He’d know that reinforcements would eventually arrive, but by then he could be entrenched.

  “It could be a she, you know,” Jasmine noted in a haughty way. We looked at her. “I’m just saying that you immediately assume it’s a guy, but it may be a woman.”

  I gave her a sidelong glance.

  “So it bothers you that we assume someone who is being a monster-sized dick is a dude?”

  “Well, when you put it like that…” She trailed off. Then, she sighed. “It’s just that women are equally capable of being monster-sized dicks.”

  “No argument here,” I said. “There was a particular dragon not too long ago who wanted to feed us to her children, as you may recall.”

  “Precisely,” Jasmine bragged. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “Okay, then,” I said, giving in with a shrug. “From now on, we’ll consider the brains behind this incredibly assholeish situation to be a chick.”

  Jasmine held a look of accomplishment on her face, and she even stood a little taller.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Next!”

  CHAPTER 7

  I sat at the little table, looking across at the woman who was processing my paperwork. Yes, paperwork. You would think that with all of the technological advancements, they’d be doing everything digitally, but not so with the reintegration offices. Oh, they would transfer everything from paper to the computer at the end of the day, but they wanted to make sure it took as long as possible while you were undergoing the process of reintegration.

  Supposedly, this had to do with calming the mind of the person being reintegrated.

  Fail.

  “Are you still an amalgamite?” she asked, pushing her mousy brown hair from her eyes.

  What an odd question. That was like asking someone if they were still human. How could that possibly change?

  I should have just said “yes” and moved along, but I couldn’t.

  “How could I have changed into anything else?”

  She blew out a long breath, making it clear that she no more wanted to be asking these questions than I wanted to be answering them. Then, she set down her pen and sat back, crossing her arms. This was the universal signal that it was go-time.

  “You are a unique person, Mr. Dex,” she replied coolly. From what my crew said about their attackers topside, that may no longer be true. “Therefore,” she continued, “we have no precedent regarding what you are or are not capable of doing.”

  “But that’s just dumb,” I countered. “Do you ask vampires if they are still vampires?”

  “We don’t need to,” she answered, her voice as tight as mine. “There are thousands of years of data showing that vampires cannot transform into anything other than vampires.” She held up a finger. “And don’t bring up the point about them turning into bats. That’s folklore, and you know it.”

  “I wasn’t going to bring that up,” I noted, crossing my arms. “I’m not stupid enough to believe that hoopla.”

  Her plump cheeks were getting redder by the minute. Obviously, she had to deal with difficult people all day, but I was feeling singled out here. As she’d just admitted, she wouldn’t have asked that particular question to anyone else, making it prejudicial.

  With dull eyes, she pushed forward. “I’m assuming t
he answer is ‘no’ to you having changed from being an amalgamite?”

  “I have not changed, nor will I ever change.” I uncrossed my arms and sat forward as well. “Is there a way that you can put that in there so I’m not asked this silly question the next time I come down here?”

  “No,” she replied, “and what’s the big deal anyway?”

  “Seriously?” I scoffed. “How can you even ask me that? It’s offensive and racist to question if I’ve changed from being what I was born to be.”

  Her look was not one that conveyed sympathy.

  “Okay,” I added in a huff, “how would you like it if someone asked if you had changed from being a werebear?”

  She shot me a look.

  “I am not a werebear!”

  That made me do a double-take. She was easily six and a half feet tall, two hundred and fifty pounds, and had more hair on her arms than Harvey and Portman put together.

  “Seriously?” I said, furrowing my brow in disbelief.

  “I’m a fae, thank you very much.”

  I blinked.

  “You’re kidding,” I said, looking her over again.

  “I have a pituitary issue.”

  Ouch.

  Well, I felt like a rather enormous asshole at that moment. Typically, werebears were proud of the fact that they were big and hairy, but for a fae this had to be catastrophic.

  “I…uh…well…”

  “Again, Mr. Dex,” she growled like a werebear, “are you still an amalgamite?”

  I looked down in shame.

  “Yes.”

  “Super.” She uncrossed her arms and started writing again. “Married or single?”

  “Single, but I have a girlfriend.”

  “Don’t care,” she replied. “Are you still the chief of the Las Vegas Paranormal Police Department?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you still living at The Martin?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you still drive a red Aston Martin?”

  “Yes,” I replied, though I found that a weird question as well.

  She went quiet for a few moments as she continued her writing.