Border Town: SLICE Agency, Book One

by Louisa Bacio

  Border Town

  SLICE Agency, Book One

  Louisa Bacio

  After Glows Publishing

  Border Town

  Copyright © 2017 by Louisa Bacio

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  Published by After Glows Publishing

  PO Box 224

  Middleburg, FL 32050

  AfterGlowsPublishing.com

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  Cover by LKO Designs

  Formatting by AG Formatting

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  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  AfterGlowsPublishing.com

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Note From the Publisher

  Border Town

  A thin line exists between reality and the paranormal, between one country and the next. Lucia grew up stuck between cultures on the border of Texas and Mexico and the wavy lines of reality. With the help of her two sisters, she runs the family ranch, or what’s left of it.

  Years ago, a hurricane shifted the river, cutting through the property with their land partially ending up on the other side of the Rio Grande. Mother Nature unleashed more than land wars. Legend tells of a supernatural beast slaughtering the livestock every seven years. When the carcasses of goats show up drained of blood, she reaches out for help.

  Shaw McDiamond doesn’t want to be stuck in a hick town chasing after the myth of the chupacabra. As part of an elite force of paranormal agents that work the border, Shaw’s group, SLICE, exposes aliens of another kind. This vampiric creature is like nothing he’s encountered, and the woman he’s working with unnerves him even more.

  Lucia and Shaw clash over folklore and reality, fate and free will. As the killings escalate with the attack of a ranch hand, the storm returns, and the two become trapped in an ever-shifting world they can’t control. And to survive, they’ll have to do it together.

  1

  A howl broke the silence of the night, sending shivers down Lucia’s back. She tugged her jacket tighter around her body, holding the strings of the hoodie close. Mami warned her about walking the property late at night under the full moon, but with the slaughtering of the farm animals the past few evenings, she needed to make sure nothing prowled.

  She gripped the cold metal flashlight. The light illuminating the pathway wavered with the shaking of her hand. Stupid to be out here alone, but who else was able to do it? Purposely, she’d left her herding dog, Foxy, inside for fear something may happen to her. She wouldn’t send her younger sisters on this ill-advised adventure. Roxanne would break one of her glitter-painted fingernails and Dominique probably would be more likely to recite poetry to the intruder than fight him off.

  With their dad laid up after the amputation of his lower leg due to diabetes, the responsibility fell on her, the oldest. Being the first in birth order sucked on so many levels. At twenty-five, she didn’t want all the responsibility. After their mother left, Lucia stepped in as the mother replacement.

  Now she felt the epitome of #ParentingFail.

  The wind whipped through the thin tree line, shooting a wave of dirt across her face. She sputtered, wiping the moisture from her teary eyes. Her feet slipped on the loose soil near the river’s edge. She gazed out over the Rio Grande. Sparkling lights dotted the other side. One thing about a storm—it cleared the air. Visibility wasn’t always this good. Despite standing on her family ranch in southern Texas, right there was Mexico. All that separated here and there was a sometimes lazy river, and an often treacherous one.

  Yooowwwl.

  She turned toward the inhuman sound, moving forward against the instinct to run in the opposite direction. A squealing noise like an animal in pain followed the latest screech, and she knew she wouldn’t make it in time to stop the killing.

  Running, she did her best to avoid oversized rocks and furrowed roots sticking out of the ground. She reached the goats’ enclosure and rather than circling to get to the gate, she tucked the flashlight into her back pocket and climbed the wooden fence.

  Lucia clamped her hands on the top rung and hoisted herself up. She swung her leg over the rail and maneuvered to drop. A splinter slid into her palm, and her feet landed on the soft earth.

  Fearful “blahs” greeted her, and she pushed past the animals that seemed no worse for wear. The bleating of a kid acted as an audio map, leading her to the latest victim. The mother goat lay on her side, glassy eyes staring vacant into the darkened sky. Bite marks marred her neck, and red stained the light gray fur. Lucia reached out, giving a soothing pet to the baby before stroking the adult’s coarse coat.

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to stop this, Bell.”

  The kid was a few weeks old and couldn’t survive without the mom yet. They’d either have to find him a surrogate, or hand feed the little guy.

  She wanted to get rid of the corpse, or at least cover her. But with the wicked winds and the weight of the goat, there was no way she’d be doing either tonight. It felt scandalous, blasphemous, leaving the carcass out here for whatever had done this deed to return and feast. Maybe it was time to hire a nighttime manager to oversee the property. Her father fought it, but there was only so much she could do. And he could do even less.

  Cramps tightened the muscles of Lucia’s stomach as she scanned the surrounding area. This kill hadn’t happened too long ago, and whoever or whatever did it may still be close by. Dark shadows hung around the edges of the old barn. Did one move? She ventured forward and stopped. Not a good idea. Except for the Maglite she clutched, she carried no weapons.

  Dumb. She grew up on this farm, the family plantation. She knew better, but she also hated guns. Her papi walked the perimeter with a shotgun under his arm, but with the potential of people crossing the river on their quest to the U.S., she didn’t want to shoot someone by accident.

  Even if they were on private property.

  The crunch of footsteps coming from behind made Lucia twist, swinging the flashlight in an arc and grunting loudly.

  “Wow, watch it, sis,” Dom easily stepped back, her eyes wide.

  “What are you doing out there? I could have hurt you.”

  Dom’s gaze focused past her on the carcass. Lucia didn’t need to turn to see where her baby sister was looking. Tears slipped down her face. “I heard you scream, so I had to come out.”

  “Scream? No way. I didn’t scream.” Lucia brushed off the accusation. “Maybe it was the goat.” She was tough and handled what needed to be done. She didn’t need help.

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Dom snicke
red. “You might not have realized it, but you did. Like when you stepped barefoot on the tack in the haystack a few years back. I know the difference between an animal and you.”

  “Anyway, it’s not safe out here. I didn’t see what did this—” she gestured toward the poor mother goat “—but it may be lurking, or come back to finish the job.”

  Kneeling, Dom soothed the kid. “What’s going to happen to him? Can we take him inside for the night?”

  Of course, she’d want to harbor the orphan in the house. And tomorrow, Lucia would have to be the one to pick up the mess.

  “Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb. Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow.” Dom sat in the dirt, the long-legged baby tucked into her lap, singing.

  “It’s not a lamb. It’s a goat,” Lucia muttered. “Come on, let’s take him inside. Just one night.”

  “He can stay in my room,” Dom said. “I’ll watch him.”

  “The mudroom. It’s got the wood floor and will be easier to clean.”

  Her sister made doe eyes, begging to get her way without saying a word.

  “You can stare at me all you want. I’m cold and tired, and I’m not budging. He can come in the house and you can feed him in the morning.” She swore, sometimes it felt like her sister was sixteen and not twenty-two.

  “Deal, and I’ll make sure he’s taken care of,” Dom said. She stood and carried the baby goat.

  “When you’re home.” Not for the first time, Lucia wished she was back in college, without a care in the world. But she’d dropped out. Without their mother around and the onslaught of keeping the farm going, someone needed to take charge and run things. That someone ended up being her.

  “Are you just going to leave that one there?” Dom asked with a backward glance.

  “Nothing can be done for her right now. I’ll have Mack take care of her tomorrow.”

  One of the last farmhands, Mack had worked on the ranch for so long, he’d become part of the family. He also was older than her father, and even though he slept on the property, he didn’t hear anything at night anymore. He slept like the cliché dead. When the economy took a downturn, they let go of most of the help. If these incidents kept up, maybe they should look at having someone stay overnight again, at least until Papi got his strength back.

  He may never. She pushed aside the thought.

  Lightning flashed across the sky, and on instinct, Lucia ducked her head.

  “One, two, three, four, five…” Dominique counted as they walked.

  Thunder rumbled so fierce, she swore the ground shook. And then the skies opened up and all hell broke loose in a downpour.

  Dom cried out, jogging faster toward the house.

  Lucia grunted. “Great. Just great. Couldn’t you have waited a few more minutes until we were safely inside?” Lucia asked the powers-that-be. Of course not, because that would be convenient.

  The wind blew the rain in a slant, soaking them from head to foot. The hoodie refused to stay on her head, and she gave up trying to get it to remain in place.

  Relief hit the moment they reached the porch.

  “At least we’re now dry,” Dom said. She put the goat down and brushed off the wetness from her face. When their eyes met, the giggles hit.

  The excursion was so absurd, if they didn’t laugh, they’d cry. Lucia buckled, holding onto her stomach, trying to catch her breath.

  “And, and, then the rain hit,” Dom said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you that pissed off in forever.”

  “It was the last thing I needed.”

  She opened the side door to the mudroom off the kitchen. “Grab a towel and dry him off. I’ll get some blankets and make a spot for him to sleep.”

  At the sound of her voice, Foxy, with her short corgi legs, came running. She lowered her head at the sight of the kid, and Lucia imagined her thinking, What’s that thing doing inside?

  “It’s all right, girl,” she assured all of them. “It’s only temporary.”

  From the cupboard above the dryer, she took down a towel and tossed it to Dom. Her sister wrapped the little goat and gently rubbed away the wetness. Lucia piled blankets in the corner and secured a baby gate—no babies in the household now, but they learned long ago it helped keep animals where they were supposed to be.

  “Think we should feed him now?” Dom asked. She yawned, rubbing her eyes.

  “You’ve got your college class early tomorrow. Why don’t you turn in?” Lucia said. “I’ll make sure he’s settled.”

  “Okay, but wake me early so I can help. Really.” She wrapped her arms around Lucia, holding her tightly. “You know, you don’t have to do all this on your own, right?”

  In the last month, five goats had been killed, bled dry, two chickens, and one cow. We need help.

  Lucia shrugged. “I don’t know where to turn.” She dropped her voice, afraid her father might hear them talking. “It’s like right before Momma left.”

  Papi never talked about their mother, or the goat sucker that prowled their land every seven years.

  “You need to call someone,” Dominique said. “Before it’s too late.”

  She feared it may already be. Who would believe her?

  2

  A perpetual hum of activity ran in the background. Shaw McDiamond learned to block out the constant viewing of every supernatural reality show. “Research” as his workmate liked to call it. Addicted to TV more like it. Jackson probably slept with the set on.

  Truth be told, Jackson didn’t like the silence of being alone. It gave him too much time to think. He’d told Shaw that once late at night, after a few beers. Shaw understood: The white noise drowned out the terrors of the past.

  Flashes of light from a wall of computer screens cast a green glow to the secured room. The close-knit team worked in the space in rotations with three on shift at a time. Without any windows to the outside letting in natural light, it was easy to lose track of time, especially when a shift changed from morning to night.

  Shaw had been at home base for a few weeks now—long enough to feel antsy about getting out and taking on a new case. But the workload dictated they take rotations, alternating between being on the road and holding down the fort. As a whole, a dozen guys worked the unit, but Shaw’s team consisted of three: him, Jackson, and Alec. As a floater who filled in when needed, Drew was the newest member.

  Each had a military background. They might be retired from the forces but that didn’t mean they were off the job. Instead, they served their country in another manner. One much less talked about. One that rarely got any recognition. Since the work was super-secret, most didn’t have family ties in the real world. If they disappeared to do a job, no one really missed them—except their coworkers.

  An only child raised by his grandparents, who were now dead, Shaw didn’t miss what he never really had. He didn’t lay awake at night, pining for a family. Some of the guys came to their loner status a bit more tragically. A drunk driver wiped out Jackson’s wife and kid when he was deployed in the Middle East. After that loss and blaming himself for not being in the States to drive home that late night, he’d sworn not to give his heart away again. Too bad, since when they hit the bars, the women loved that Texas cowboy.

  Disassociation disorder. Shaw knew his file was riddled with terms that meant he didn’t care if he died. He didn’t get close. He lived for his job. And in this line of work, that wasn’t a bad thing.

  “Hey, asshole,” Jackson slapped his hand on the desk, making the metal vibrate. “Get the phone. It’s your time to deal with the crazies.”

  Nope. Shaw didn’t need anybody, but he did need to get out of this electronic hellhole. Maybe this next call would be his ticket to freedom. He doubted it. Most of the calls they took were from conspiracy theorists or “crazies” who saw flashing lights in the sky.

  “SLICE. This is Shaw. How can I help you?”

  “I’m not sure if I’m calling the right person,” a wom
an’s voice said. “We’re, umm, having some problems on our farm. I’ve been transferred a million times.”

  He chuckled. Most people started out the same way. “Probably not quite a million. But why don’t you tell me what’s happening and I’ll be the judge if you’ve reached the right department.”

  “What’s SLICE anyway?”

  “It’s a mouthful, Supernatural Legion Interspecies & Customs Enforcement. What’s your name?” He slid out a notebook and picked up a pen, clicking the end.

  “My name is Lucia, and I’m calling from southern Texas—between Harlingen and Brownsville. Interspecies? What the hell is that?”

  “We can get to that when the time comes. That’s located right along the Mexican border, right?” he asked. On the paper, he sketched an outline of the Gulf of Mexico, adding an X to about the spot he thought she was located.

  “That’s right. Over the past few months, we’ve had a slew of animals killed, mostly goats.” She hesitated and the line went quiet.

  “Like coyotes or something getting to them?” he asked, feeling his attention waning. How’d she get to this secret branch of the government when she could be calling her local animal control?

  “Not exactly. Their necks look to be punctured by teeth, and the bodies are, ah, drained of all their blood. Well, what’s not spilled in the dirt.”

  The pen scratched across the paper, tearing a hole. He sat up, paying a bit more attention. “How do you know the bodies have been drained of blood? Autopsies?”

  “No. Of course not. But they’re limp, and Mack—that’s our farmhand—mentioned it. He’s cut a few open.”