The Judah Black Novels Box Set

by E. A. Copen

  “I don’t have anything to go on yet,” I said. “Do me a favor. Once they let you out of here, drop by Chanter’s and see if he’s heard of anyone poking into magick they shouldn’t be messing with or any new practitioners in the area.”

  “I’ll ask, but I wouldn’t expect much. Trust me, if Chanter knew anything about it, he would have shut it down.”

  “I have to cover all bases,” I said.

  Sal nodded. “I’ll pull together what I can. You’re bringing Hunter out for the full moon ceremony, right?”

  I winced. Dammit, I’d almost forgotten. I had to learn to keep better track of the lunar calendar, or else I’d be in trouble. “Provided the investigation doesn’t keep me chained to my desk, yeah.”

  “Then I’ll see you there.”

  We parted ways, me leaving him by the door while I walked over to the nearest huddle of officers to ask where I could find the two witnesses. One of them pointed to a cocktail table just to the left of a big stage. Two men in police uniforms blocked my view of whoever was sitting there. I thanked the cops and moved on.

  “Special Agent Judah Black,” I announced on approaching the two officers and showing my badge.

  They each took a step back. “You the fed?” one asked.

  “Last time I checked.”

  “About time you showed up,” said one of the witnesses in a heavy Italian accent. "We've been waiting for nearly an hour."

  Vampires, as a rule, come in two basic varieties. Most are like cobras: beautiful and deadly. They use their good looks, money, and power to lure in easy prey. A select few of the existing lines didn't get their blood-brothers' good looks. I'd heard they were grotesquely deformed due to generations upon generations of inbreeding. The Stryx Clan, based out of Italy, was the deadliest and most well-known of the latter type. They claimed to be the oldest clan of vampires. They were the wealthiest and one of the most influential, especially in America.

  Unfortunately, one of the witnesses before me was a heavy hitter with the Stryx. Crux Continelli was vampire royalty as the eldest son of the clan leader. It wasn't the first time we'd met, though. I'd met Crux before. After all, federal law dictated he and his crew come and check in with me once they moved into the area, even if they were only here temporarily. He’d rolled into town about six weeks ago but had kept to himself.

  Crux, by far the ugliest of the two, sat on one of the padded chairs at the cocktail table, his long, gangly arms thrown over his knees. Abnormally long fingers with untrimmed nails reached halfway down his shin. His face was uneven, with one eye sinking lower than the other. Elongated ears, a rumpled, bald forehead, and an expensive suit rounded out a spot-on Nosferatu look.

  Next to him sat a man who was barely human anymore. He belonged to the vampire. Thrall, I think, was the politically correct term nowadays, though I preferred blood slave. It was disgusting what some vampires did to their humans. This one was tall and gaunt with prominent cheekbones and sickly, pale skin. He wore a dress shirt with a high collar, barely covering puncture wounds in his neck. Though Crux had never introduced me to his blood slave, I recalled the paperwork said his name was Sven Ollar.

  "Sorry to keep you waiting," I said to Crux out of the corner of my mouth.

  "I've got nothing to say to these pigs," Crux said. "I don't even know why you're here, agent. Harry was a dear friend, a cousin, and a full-fledged member of the family. This is an internal matter."

  "Someone’s committed a crime," I said with a frown. "I'm going to find whoever is responsible. There's no reason for vigilante justice, Crux."

  "Vigilante justice!" Crux stood. "Harry was my blood, agent. Blood among my kind is sacred. The sheer brutality of his murder demands I declare a blood debt." He lifted a martini and sipped at it, letting some of the liquid spill down his chin.

  "Everyone just needs to calm down. I think you'd be more comfortable down at the station."

  “I doubt there’s a comfortable locale anywhere in your jurisdiction,” Crux said after smacking his lips. “And I honestly don’t know why I’m being detained. I wasn’t even in the room when it happened. We stepped out for a bite.”

  I shuddered. “You were one of the last people to see Harry and Jane alive. I’m still going to need to take a statement and get some information from you.”

  Crux stared down into his empty cup. “Perhaps somewhere else would be preferable if you insist on talking. I seem to have drained my cup as it is.”

  I turned to one of the beat cops and told him to escort Crux and his...friend...to the Paint Rock police station where I would meet them.

  One cop looked at the other and groaned. “All the way out there?”

  “The Paint Rock department is better suited for special situations like this.” I leaned in closer to whisper, “Look, just keep them calm and comfortable until I can get there. And be careful. This type offends easy.”

  "I warn you agent, I have excellent hearing," Crux said, indignant.

  “My shift ends in an hour,” said the other cop. “After that, you’re on your own.”

  I crossed my arms. “Are you refusing to cooperate with a federal investigation?”

  He stepped up and looked down at me, tipping back his hat. “If the feds want ‘em, you can have ‘em. But I don’t work for you or Tindall. I work for Maude.”

  “Yeah, we know where our loyalties lie.”

  “Fine.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose and sighed. “It shouldn’t take you an hour to transport them from here to the precinct. Do that much for me, fellas, and my people will take over from there. Deal?”

  After sweetening the deal with the promise of my eternal gratitude, they finally agreed. I hoped it was the last bit of politics I’d have to step in and jogged back upstairs to see how Tindall had fared with the ME.

  Upstairs, they’d moved Jane Doe’s remains onto a gurney. The ME was going through a few things with Tindall in the hallway and paused at my approach. “Sorry,” I said, a little breathless from the jog. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You’re just in time,” Tindall announced, gesturing to the ME. “You should hear what Doctor Kalma has to say.”

  “I had another look at the hole in her chest cavity,” the ME said as I came closer. “It goes straight through, removing a large portion of the heart.”

  “Looks like a stab wound,” Tindall said, leaning in. “Saw a guy get done in by a pipe in a tornado once. Went through him like butter. Not too unlike this.”

  “Unless you’ve got tornadoes in nightclubs now, I don’t think that’s the case. And there’s something else.” She pulled some of the clothing away from the wound. A few inches from the hole, black, spidery veins had appeared just under the surface of Jane’s skin.

  “What the hell is that?” I asked, leaning in closer.

  “I was hoping you’d tell me.”

  I gave the coroner a heavy glare. “I’ve never seen it before.”

  Tindall winced. “Is it some kind of biohazard?”

  “I ran it by Maude,” said the ME. “Unless BSI is going to call in a hazmat team, it’s not going to happen. He says you’re pulling the case from Eden PD, so it’s all you guys now.” She pulled the black bag back over Jane’s head and zipped it closed, shaking her head. “There’s something else puzzling me, too. Under normal circumstances, a body cools at a regular rate until it’s even with the room temp around it. The room was about thirty-seven degrees Fahrenheit and climbing. Jane’s internal temp was thirty-six degrees when I arrived. On a hunch, I took it again a few minutes ago. She’s down to thirty-three, even after moving her into the hallway. If I don’t get to this autopsy soon, she’ll freeze solid on me.”

  Okay, I thought. Definitely file under weird things I’ve never seen happen to a dead body before. Cold spots were an important supernatural indicator. It meant something had pulled a lot of energy out of an area, tapping into the magick. Doing so messed up something on the particle physics level. BSI has scientists to explain s
cience stuff. I wasn’t one of them. All I knew was the colder something made a room, the more energy it was using to do its work. Ghosts used magick energy to manifest as an apparition. It explained why the room was so cold, but it didn’t explain why Jane was freezing, especially since the ME had moved her into the hallway.

  “I’ll know more once I get in there,” the ME continued. “And you can rest assured I’m not going in without being in full protective gear, hazmat or no.”

  “Hopefully, we’ve already got something to go on,” Tindall said, nodding. “You talk to those vamps?”

  “There’s a problem,” I answered. “Seems like our witness has a get out of helping free card. He’s a vampire prince, which entitles him to invoke the fifth on almost everything. I can’t even arrest him if he obstructs. Best I can do is send him home.”

  “Well, damn.” Tindall placed his hat back on his head.

  “I’m going to try to kiss ass to get him to talk,” I said.

  I wasn’t relishing the chance to talk to Crux, especially if the case wound up hinging on his word. Of all the supernatural creatures in all the world, vampires freaked me out the worst. The effect Crux had on me with his grotesque appearance and complete disregard for human life only intensified my feelings.

  I turned and walked back to the center of the room. There was more than one way to replay past events. Just as I’d done at the murder scene in Paint Rock a little over a year ago, I could tap into the energy of the place and try to sort it out. The downside was I’d relive the death of one of the victims, and I had no way of controlling which one. Without knowing which kind of supernatural nasty I was dealing with, it was dangerous. It meant potentially opening myself up to its influence if it happened to still be hanging around. It wasn’t worth the risk. No, I wouldn’t do it unless I had no other leads left to pursue.

  “I need more manpower on this, Tindall,” I said, closing my eyes to the scene. “And EPD isn’t as cooperative as I would’ve hoped.”

  “You don’t say. Can’t you call in back up from BSI?”

  “Not for canvassing.” I opened my eyes again and pulled my notebook back out, scribbling in it as I spoke. “I’m going to try to get some other people’s opinions on this. I need to put a team together.”

  I paused. Normally, I would have recruited the local priest. He was an expert on the supernatural, but my relationship with Father Gideon Reed was rocky at best. However, I needed a consult. It didn’t have to be him, I guessed, but he was one of the best sources in Paint Rock for information. If it did turn out there were spirits involved, I would need his help.

  I scribbled his name down on the page, then ripped it out and handed it to Tindall. “Get the rest of the names on this list together and put them in the briefing room.”

  He took the page, glanced at it and grunted. “Listen, Judah. I know I agreed to come out here and all, but I’ve got cases of my own piling up. Julie’s set up this fundraiser dinner, and I’m supposed to meet with my campaign staff…”

  “Just get the names on the list together in a room,” I told him. “I’ll do the rest.”

  “And what are you going to be doing while I’m doing all the legwork?”

  “Interrogating Count Orlok and Lurch,” I said.

  Tindall gave me a funny look, but he knew better than to ask any questions. He tipped his hat to me and said he’d meet me back at the station later in the day.

  Chapter Three

  Outside, it was early morning. The first pinks and golds of dawn streaked through the dark blue, almost black sky. Police cruisers aside, the parking lot was empty. I had parked my Firebird long ways across two parking spaces on the edge of the lot. Tired from going into work so early and running around like a chicken with my head cut off, I trudged over to it.

  I’d left my car empty, but that wasn’t how I found it.

  In the passenger seat, behind locked doors, was a college-aged girl with eggplant and coral-streaked short, spiky hair. She sat with her head back, sunglasses down over her eyes and hands behind her head. I sighed and tapped on the glass. She started, cursed, and then rolled down the window.

  “How’d you find me, Tamara?” I asked, leaning against the passenger door to keep her from getting out.

  She lifted one shoulder and rolled it, more in a stretch than a shrug. “It’s Mara, and it was easy. Tracking spell.”

  I crossed my arms and gave her my best scolding mom look. “I gave you that stuff so you’d be able to track me down in case of an emergency. Emergency, Mara. You do know what emergency means?”

  She made a face. “Of course, I know what it means. I’m not a kid.”

  I sighed. “Why are you here?” Mara didn’t have a car. She lived in Paint Rock, too far for her to have walked, and I knew she didn’t have the cash for a cab fare. “How’d you get out here, anyway?”

  She hesitated, and I knew I wasn’t going to like her answer. “I went out last night with some friends. Nowhere bad. I wasn’t smoking or drinking.”

  “And no séances?”

  Mara’s serious face turned into a grin.

  “Mara,” I continued, “I told you to stop doing those. It’s dangerous.”

  “Calm your tits. It’s all a sham. I’m not really calling up spirits, even though I could with my eyes stapled shut. And it’s not my fault if stupid people want to throw their hard-earned cash at me. Girl’s gotta make a living. Food is expensive. A cup of ramen is like two bucks now.”

  She paused and I waited, tapping my foot.

  “Okay,” Mara said defensively. “My friends wanted to go get wasted and dumped me downtown when I turned them down, so I walked here. Saw your car and jimmied the lock for a snooze. You happy?” She started searching through her pockets and found an empty carton of cigarettes. She crumpled it and tossed it on the floor of the car. “Besides, you promised me a ride-along.”

  “This is not the case, and Aisling is not the place.”

  “Why? Because it’s too adult? Please. You’re not doing me any favors by shielding me, teach.”

  I paced around to the other side of my car, unlocked it, and climbed in. “I’m not your teacher,” I reminded Mara. “At least not in an official capacity. How are you doing in your classes?”

  “My professors are all dicks and pricks.”

  “You’re taking classes online, Mara.”

  “So? Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” She crossed her arms and settled deeper into her seat. “Why the fuck do I need to know anatomy and physiology to be a federal agent? Don’t you people have specialists and stuff?”

  I put my hands on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly. “Did you fail an anatomy and physiology test again?”

  “It’s not my fault! The questions are worded weird. I swear, it’s like they want you to fail.”

  Letting out a sigh through puffed cheeks, I lowered my head onto the top of the steering wheel. Four months ago, I’d made the mistake of agreeing to take part in a nationwide mentoring project. BSI hooked agents in the field up with similarly powered supernatural youths and young adults at risk. The program gave BSI a much-needed positive publicity boost, and my superiors had suggested it would be a good way for me to put something positive in my career files. I thought it’d be a once a month gig where I showed up to spend an afternoon watching cartoons with some over-eager psychic seven-year-old.

  Instead, I got Mara.

  Mentoring Mara was like another full-time job. Like me, she was a human with innate magickal talent, though her areas of expertise were somewhat outside my own. She’d had a recent run-in with the law for theft, which qualified her to participate in the program and avoid an official record. My history with Mara went further back than her arrest, though. I’d killed her parents.

  The couple had been running an illegal business, selling their daughter for cash. Their gig revolved around Mara, who was spirit sensitive, meaning she was able to call up the spirits of the dead and let them speak and act through her. Someh
ow, her parents got it in their heads that they could put famous dead celebrities in their daughter and make some quick cash. For a few hundred bucks, customers could spend the evening with the dead celebrity of their choice, no holds barred. As you can imagine, people want to do some sick things to celebrities in little girls’ bodies.

  Mara ran away, but she couldn’t stay gone. Her parents grabbed her and dosed her with painkillers. When I finally found her, she weighed just seventy-nine pounds.

  She was a good kid who’d been through some bad shit, but she was doing something about it. In the wake of her situation, she’d decided to follow in my footsteps and study criminal justice.

  “Okay,” I said after a moment. “There’s still a few weeks left in the course, plenty of time to turn it around. You’ve still got one more exam and a research project, right?”

  “I was kind of hoping to turn this ride-along into my project. I figure you’ll be hitting the morgue eventually. I can attend the autopsy. That’d be a sick report.”

  I thought about it for a minute. Attending an autopsy would be good for her. Not only would it help her see how solving a crime and knowledge of anatomy were related, but it would be a damn good test of her will. If she couldn’t handle an autopsy, it would be best to know now before she invested too much time in the career field. But then I remembered the hole in Jane Doe’s body and the black marks around it. My stomach turned.

  “Not this one, kid,” I said, starting the car.

  “Why the hell not?”

  I didn’t answer her. Instead, I decided a change in subject was in order. As I backed the car carefully out of the parking lot and eased it onto the road, I said, “Any luck with those other tracking spells I put you on?”