Great Balls of Fury

by Annabel Chase

  Great Balls of Fury

  Federal Bureau of Magic Cozy Mystery, Book 1

  Annabel Chase

  Red Palm Press LLC

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Also By Annabel Chase

  Chapter One

  I am the villain of my story.

  I didn’t mean to be. In fact, I’ve been trying my whole life to stay on the straight and narrow, which is why I moved far away from my hometown and became a federal agent in the first place. I thought the FBI was the perfect career for me. No magic or supernaturals. Just good, old-fashioned federal law enforcement, where I was on the right side of the law. Where I was undeniably good.

  Then Thursday happened.

  I was tailing a suspect through the streets of San Francisco—a drug trafficking case that I’d been working on for weeks along with my partner, Fergus. The suspect turned and fled down a dark alley, so I followed, ignoring the stench of rotting food that filled my nostrils. I was so thrilled to finally be on the verge of a break in the case that I failed to sense the suspect’s true nature until it was too late.

  Big mistake. Huge.

  The suspect tackled me in the alley and, somehow—maybe it was my natural defense mechanism kicking in—he triggered my siphoning power. For the next few minutes, I was a bloodthirsty vampire, which would have been fine except for the fact that Fergus had followed me into the alley. The real vampire staggered off in one direction and Fergus took one look at the fangs protruding from my mouth and took off in another.

  Unfortunately, my partner didn’t run as fast as me. Fergus carried a little extra weight around the middle that slowed him down. I spent a lot of time biting my tongue when he reached for the extra donut because, gods above, I didn’t want to turn into my nagging mother. Anyway, Fergus’s fearful escape set off my temporary hunting instinct. Poor guy didn’t stand a chance. He was one hundred percent human. He had no clue about Otherworld or the supernaturals that lived right here, hidden in plain sight.

  Supernaturals like me.

  I’m a rare supernatural known as a fury. Furies have been in my father’s bloodline going back centuries, but the last few generations yielded only demons and magic users like witches until I came along. I got to inherit a little of everything. My siphoning power is the one that turned me fangtastic. See, I can siphon another supernatural’s power—only briefly—and it leaves us both in a weakened state afterward. I can thank my mother’s witchy side for that particular talent. I hate the way it makes me feel, and most of the powers possessed by other supernaturals are ones I don’t want anyway. I just want to be normal, but that’s not what the gods intended for me.

  Thankfully, I didn’t kill Fergus. The vampire traits wore off before I could do any permanent damage, but Fergus ended up in the hospital in need of a blood transfusion and the suspect got away. It was not my best day, and, unsurprisingly, it was also my last day in the field. When I arrived home that night, emotionally exhausted and racked with guilt, it got worse. I sprouted wings—huge black wings. I stood in front of the mirror for what seemed like hours, staring at the monstrous symbol of my failure with tears in my eyes. Eventually, I couldn’t handle the sight of them anymore and willed them to disappear. Thankfully, they did, but they were mine now. I’d earned them by using my abilities. That was how being a fury worked. The more power you used, the more the gods gave you. Except I didn’t want any of it.

  I knew the job situation was bad when the Bureau ran a few tests on me and then scheduled an appointment with Dr. Suzanne Zagat, the Bureau psychiatrist. I wondered whether they were deciding to have me arrested or declared insane or both. How could I explain my abilities to a human doctor? It had been easy enough to hide my true nature through the training program. No regular human tests could detect that I was a fury. I looked and acted completely human and I’d had years of practice hiding my supernatural identity.

  I sat in the waiting area of Dr. Zagat’s office, pretending to read the gossip magazines on the coffee table. In truth, I couldn’t focus. I was too worried about what would happen to me. I’d wanted to be an agent for as long as I could remember, my penance for the sins of my family. I’d worked so hard to be a good person and, in the snap of a fang, I’d ruined it.

  The office door clicked open and Dr. Zagat’s head appeared. “Come in, Agent Fury.”

  My stomach was harboring a hurricane. Any more movement in there and I’d hurl. Something I definitely didn’t want to do under the circumstances. I stood and smoothed my shirt, trying to appear calm and completely normal.

  I tripped over the threshold on the way into the office and bumped against the psychiatrist. Understandably, she jumped as though I’d attacked her.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “It’s okay,” she said, more warmly than I expected. “Try to relax. We’re just going to have a nice chat.”

  “How’s Fergus?” I had so many questions whirling inside me, but that one shot straight to the surface.

  “He’s absolutely fine. He’s been discharged from the hospital.”

  Thank the gods.

  She took a seat and opened the file on her desk. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened on Thursday?”

  “What does the file say?” I asked.

  “I’d rather hear the story from you.”

  To catch me in a lie, no doubt. “The alley was dark. The suspect attacked me before running off. I was dizzy when I got up and I accidentally fell and knocked into Fergus.”

  Dr. Zagat cocked her head. “Fell right into his neck and accidentally lodged your absurdly pointy teeth there?”

  “My mouth was open because I was yelling as I fell.” An anemic excuse if I ever heard one, but it was the best I could do.

  She slotted her fingers together and regarded me. “Well, you’re not a vampire. So what made you choose Fergus as your next meal?”

  I blinked. She just used the word ‘vampire,’ yet didn’t seem to be freaking out, which was odd. I decided to play it cool. “I don’t think this is a joking matter, Dr. Zagat.”

  “Apologies, you’re right. Vampires aren’t allowed to feed on humans, not since the Vampire Act of 1852.”

  I reeled back. “You really know about vampires?”

  “Know about them?” she asked. “I have one for a sister-in-law.” She shook her head. “Holy hell, is Madge a pain at Sunday brunch. Always insisting her Bloody Mary must be authentic or she’s going home to make her own.” The psychiatrist shook her head. “Yet my brother loves her. Poor sap.”

  I sank against the chair, instantly relaxed. “My stepmom is a vampire.” Sally. She and my father had met on one of his business trips to Otherworld.

  Dr. Zagat threw back her head and laughed. “Even worse for you then.”

  “Not really. I don’t see them often,” I said. “They live back in Chipping Cheddar, Maryland, my hometown.”

  “Yes, Chipping Cheddar,” Dr. Zagat said, her gaze dropping to the file on her desk. “And what are you then, if not a vampire?”

  “I’m a fury.”

  Her brow lifted. “Really? The test results only say you’re an MHV.”

  “What’s an MHV?”

  “It means you’re of a Magical Hybrid Variety.”

  “The Bureau can test for t
hat?” I asked.

  “Of course. It’s not part of our routine testing, but in a case like this…” She trailed off. “So, forgive me, but my knowledge of furies is a little rusty. You drive wrongdoers insane? That’s your deal, right?”

  “I have a lot of deals,” I said.

  “According to the report, your mother is a witch.”

  “On many levels.” I paused. “Wait. You have a file on my mother?” Somehow, this news didn’t surprise me.

  “No, this is from the test we ran on you. Sort of like a supernatural DNA test. We also learned that your father is…” She reviewed another line. “Ah, yes, a vengeance demon. So how are you a fury?”

  I shrugged. “It happens. Our last name is Fury, so they knew we had the bloodline. Then I was born and they thought they’d won the lottery, having a fury in the family. They were sure I’d be the most evil one of all.” My laugh was bitter. “Boy, were they disappointed.”

  “Their loss is our gain.” She tapped her nails on the file. “So what exactly can you do as a fury?”

  “My powers aren’t fully developed because I rarely use them,” I said. I neglected to mention my shiny new set of wings.

  “You stunted your own growth?”

  “Basically.” Much to my family’s dismay. “One of my abilities is that I can siphon another’s power or ability for a brief period.”

  “Ah, hence, your bloodlust over Fergus.” She closed the file. “Now I understand. You absorbed the vampire’s energy.”

  “Long enough to want to bite Fergus,” I admitted. “Does he…remember what happened?”

  “Not anymore,” Dr. Zagat said. “He thinks the suspect attacked him with a knife.”

  “You can do that?”

  She smiled. “We can do a lot of things, Agent Fury. We just keep them well hidden, just like you.”

  “I don’t suppose the Bureau is very happy with me right now.”

  “You’re a good agent, Eden,” Dr. Zagat said. “The Bureau doesn’t want to lose you. On the other hand, you’ve proven yourself dangerous and we can’t take the risk that something like this will happen again.”

  “But I’ve been doing this job for three years and it’s the first time…”

  She held up a hand. “And you nearly killed your partner.”

  My gut twisted. I didn’t want to lose this job. I’d worked too hard to get here. “I can control it. I swear.”

  “Or you can use it.”

  I opened my mouth to argue but then stopped. “You want me to use it?”

  “Not here, of course. The FBI can’t allow it. Too risky.”

  The hurricane in my stomach picked up speed. It was now a Category Five. “You’re transferring me?”

  She seemed pleased to finally be cutting to the chase. “That’s right. The Federal Bureau of Magic can use someone with your particular talents. San Francisco doesn’t have an Otherworld portal, so there’s no field office here. As it happens, though, there’s an opening somewhere very familiar to you. Call it kismet.” She leaned forward. “Eden, how would you like to go home?”

  No, no. Not the Federal Bureau of Magic. FBM agents investigate crimes of a magical or supernatural nature in the human world. I’ve spent my whole life trying to distance myself from those roots. The last thing I want to do is take up the mantle in Chipping Cheddar.

  My heart pounded. “No, I can’t go there.” Anywhere but there. “How about the portal in Antarctica? I’ll go there.”

  “No openings there, I’m afraid. What’s wrong with home?”

  “I told you—my family lives there.”

  Dr. Zagat offered a sympathetic smile. “They can’t be that bad.”

  Good Goddess. She had no idea. “Why is there an opening?” I asked. “What about Paul Pidcock?” The supernaturals in town tend to know each other—we were like freemasons with actual power.

  Dr. Zagat pressed her lips together. “He died recently.”

  “Of what—boredom?” Paul was the sole agent in Chipping Cheddar for a reason. With the Otherworld portal in my hometown dormant for centuries, the FBM rarely had cases to handle in the area. Usually, it was to do with a new supernatural resident drawn to the town for its mystical energy. Someone who hadn’t learned how to settle quietly among humans.

  “According to the report, it was due to an unfortunate encounter with a beehive,” the psychiatrist replied. “Turns out he was allergic.”

  Poor Paul. “I’m sorry to hear it. He was a nice guy.”

  “The Bureau feels that you’ll be able to adequately fill his shoes, so congratulations. The position is yours.”

  Just like that? “And if I don’t want it?”

  Dr. Zagat’s expression hardened. “Fergus’s injuries could end up on your permanent record. That would be quite the blemish, wouldn’t it? It would probably make it difficult to find work anywhere, really.”

  I bristled. “Why me? Why can’t someone else take it?”

  “Quite frankly, Agent Fury, nobody wants it. As you already know, it’s boring and it’s thankless. Why else would Paul Pidcock die as a result of bee stings rather than in the glory of battle?”

  “The glory of battle might be overstating it slightly.”

  She huffed. “Work with me here, Eden. The Bureau is giving you an out. Take it.”

  “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

  Dr. Zagat perked up. “I thought you’d come around. As far as people in Chipping Cheddar are concerned, you work in a field office for the cyber crimes division of the FBI, so you might want to brush up on technology terms like ransomware.”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not that great with computers.” I barely knew how to use the filters on Snapchat.

  “Who cares? It’s a cover story. At least your family will still think you work for the FBI.”

  My family wouldn’t think that. They knew all about the FBM. And they knew just enough to dance out of their reach. The long arm of the law never touched my family, not in all the years they’d lived there.

  And now the long arm of the law would belong to me.

  Chapter Two

  Chipping Cheddar is a small town on the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland. It was settled by English Puritans with surnames like Abbot, Bradford, and Greenwood. Those that didn’t turn to the water for their livelihood became dairy farmers and eventually turned their hand to cheesemaking. The town streets are still full of cheese-based names and attractive historical buildings. The closer to the bay you get, the prettier the buildings. A promenade runs along the waterfront and is popular with walkers, joggers, and cyclists. The most important thing to know about Chipping Cheddar, though, is that it houses a dormant portal to Otherworld. That’s the reason the town has so many supernaturals living here. The humans don’t realize it, of course, unless they possess the Sight like my childhood friend, Clara Riley. Clara is an empath, an unfortunate ability to have during our hormonal teenage years. I wondered what she’d say when she discovered I was back. I hadn’t talked to her much since I moved away. As much as I liked Clara and treasured our friendship, I’d wanted a clean break from all things supernatural, or as clean as I could get when it came to my family.

  I packed my car with the few belongings I owned and made the long drive to Maryland. My hellhound, Princess Buttercup, spent most of the journey with her head out the window. To supernaturals, she looked like a shaggy black monster with glowing eyes and fiery breath. To humans, she looked like a black and white Great Dane thanks to a glamour created by my mother. The witch had her uses.

  I found Princess Buttercup during a trip to an oracle right before I left town for university. My older brother, Anton, had encouraged me to go and ask about my future, whether I was destined to succumb to my dark side. As a child, he tormented me with stories of black magic and violent vengeance. Anyway, I discovered the hellhound puppy abandoned outside the entrance to the underworld. I fell in love the moment I saw her and we’ve been a team ever since.

  I
pulled into the driveway of my mother’s house and sat for a moment. The house looked the same as when I left. The white clapboard house with black shutters and matching front door. The wide front porch with a slightly crooked swing. It was a slice of Americana, except for the inhabitants.

  My family lives on what used to be a dairy farm owned by the Wentworths, one of the Puritan families. Over time, other houses were built around theirs and eventually formed the cul-de-sac now known as Munster Close. Most of the houses are similar in nature, except the original farmhouse now occupied by my mother. Next door is Mrs. Paulson, the neighborhood busybody. She knows there’s something strange about my family but she’s never been able to prove it. Husbourne Crawley lives on the other side of her, a Southern transplant and white wizard partial to pale linen suits and straw hats. He’s a member of the town council—the official one for humans—and serves as our supernatural mole. The three Graces also live on the close. The sisters are infuriatingly good-natured and the type of supernaturals I aspire to be. I used to visit them often as a child, trying to absorb their wholesomeness. My mother threatened to sell them to me once and I brought her my piggybank.

  My father’s house is a mere five hundred yards away, the result of their divorce when I was ten. They agreed to divide the expansive property and my father built a new house, where he now lived with his second wife. My mother wasn’t lonely, however. She still had a full house with my grandma and Grandma’s sister, my great-aunt Thora. Although I warned my mother I was coming to stay, I didn’t offer any details. I figured that part could wait.

  I stared at the house and sighed. “Are you ready, Buttercup?”

  The hellhound barked in response. She was always ready.