The Judah Black Novels Box Set

by E. A. Copen

  “Nothing. Hunter’s just sleeping. Gives us a minute to talk about next steps,” said Sal, putting his hands on his hips. “The kid’s been through some shit, Judah. No two ways about it. He’s going to have to start dealing with it. You, too.”

  “Me?” I frowned at Sal. “What do you mean?”

  He wiped a hand over his face. “Alex.” I shook my head and turned away. Sal grabbed my arm and didn’t let me. “I’m serious,” he added.

  “Hunter never knew Alex. He was gone before Hunter was born. He’s not picking fights with kids at school because of his father.”

  “I think I know a thing or two about absent fathers, Judah.”

  I jerked my arm away from Sal. “He isn’t absent. He’s dead. I watched him die.”

  “That’s what I mean. Alex may have passed on, but you’re both still haunted by his ghost. Same as I feel about Zoe. The difference is, I’ve dealt with that shit. You two can’t just ignore it and pretend like he didn’t exist.”

  “What do you want me to do? Drive all the way across the country to stand over a granite headstone and tell him to have a good cry?”

  Sal shook his head slowly. “No, but the boy needs to know where he came from to know where he’s going. You should talk to him about Alex. It would do you both good, I think.”

  “I don’t think a dead man is what’s keeping my son and me apart.”

  Sal was quiet for a minute, glancing back at the truck. “A dead child tore apart my marriage, Judah. Sent Zoe straight into LeDuc’s arms because I didn’t know how to put her back together again. There’s nothing in the world like death to drive a wedge between two people who love each other. It makes a valley into a void. Meet the kid halfway across.” He nodded, as if that were the end of it, and walked toward the front door.

  “And if he doesn’t want to talk?” I called after him. “What then?”

  Sal didn’t pause until he reached the front door. Then, he turned tired eyes on me and said, “Then you talk. I’m tired, Judah. I’ll swing by your place later. We’ll talk then.” He pulled the door open and went inside.

  I stood out on the steps for another minute before going to the truck and pulling open the passenger side door. Hunter’s eyes fluttered open. He yawned and pushed the shirt covering him aside.

  “Hey, kiddo,” I said. “Go on inside and see if a little caffeine doesn’t perk you up. I’ll drop you off at school.”

  He blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Uh…sure.”

  Hunter pulled himself out of the truck and shambled on inside with me on his heels. Nina was at the kitchen table, sipping some coffee. Leo pushed some cereal around on his tray while he sat in his booster seat at the table. Hunter went straight for the coffee pot while Nina eyed him.

  “Juba,” Leo exclaimed and offered me a high-five.

  “Hey, champ.” I gave him a high five. “You got any tea, Nina?”

  “Top shelf about halfway back,” she answered.

  “Great. How about honey?”

  Her answer was a deep frown. “Since when do you drink tea?”

  “It’s for the elf. He’s awake. Be a doll and let Chanter know, would you? I’ve got to drop Hunter off at school and get to work in…” I checked the clock on the stove. “Shit, less than an hour.”

  “Language!”

  “Sorry. Forgot.”

  I pulled down the tea, tossed a baggie in a plastic sippy cup I found, gave it some hot water and a splash of milk before screwing the top on and rushing back out the door. I almost tripped coming down the walkway. In less than an hour, I had to present myself to a new partner, one of my superiors. It was bad enough I hadn’t slept more than a few minutes. There was no way I was going to show up in yesterday’s clothes. I needed to run home and change. Hunter could change, too, and we’d be out the door. Since my car was still sitting at the gates of the Kelley estate, I’d need to borrow a vehicle and…

  My thoughts trailed off as I came to the shed doors and didn’t see Creven sitting there. With a curse, I dropped the sippy cup and proceeded to search the shed only to come up empty. When I searched the cot, the only thing I found were discarded bloody dressings and a crudely drawn face on a sheet of paper with pointy ears, the tongue sticking out.

  “That pointy-eared bastard!” I shouted, crumpling the page. “When I catch up to him, I swear, I’ll make him eat this.”

  I stormed back into the house, found Chanter in the living room, and showed him the note. The old man didn’t seem surprised. He sipped at his coffee, gave a half-smile and said, “So, he’s gone then?”

  “Disappearing and reappearing like a snake,” I said. “He’s got to be using Ways to get around, right?”

  “I’d say so.”

  “Damn him.”

  “I don’t see why you’re so upset, Judah. He gave you quite a bit of information last night, more than he had to.”

  I paced back and forth, scowling down at the page I’d uncrumpled. The more I looked at it, the more I wanted to give the elf a one-two punch in the face. “He tricked me. That bastard…And I still had questions for him.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’ll show himself again. If anything, he’s gone back to his mistress. You said he worked for her.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, crumpling the page again and putting it in my pocket. “But once he gets behind the Kelleys, he’ll be untouchable. They’ll never let me talk to him.”

  Chanter took another gulp of his coffee. “At least you’ll know where to find him. In the meantime—”

  I interrupted Chanter with a curse. “Sorry,” I explained. “But I need to get to the office early. Can I borrow the truck?”

  He sighed and fished the keys out of his pocket, tossing them to me. “One wonders why I even bother to call it mine. Fill up the tank before you bring it back, will you?”

  I offered Chanter my thanks and jogged back outside, climbing into the truck and checking the time. It was just after eight. Great. I had just under an hour to go home, get changed, drop Hunter off, and get back to the precinct to make a good impression on my new partner. And I’d thought the giant was scary.

  I drove home and tore through my closet, looking for something decent to wear while Hunter ate a bowl of cereal. My normal everyday attire for work was a comfortable shirt and jeans. Almost everyone at the precinct dressed down, or at least those who don’t have to wear the uniform did. Tindall was a notable exception; he was always dressed to the nines, if you meant nineteen-fifty-nine.

  Anyway, the last time I wore business casual to work, Hunter and I still lived in Ohio, which meant my nice clothes were buried in the back of my closet. I did manage to find a nice, white dress shirt, though, and get it on, cursing when I realized it was somehow tighter across the chest and shoulders than I remembered. It was bearable as long as I didn’t tuck it in. After finding a pair of black dress slacks, I tore through my closet, looking for the comfortable but nice pair of flats I knew was back there.

  I found a box containing a pair of slingbacks, pumps, and wedges I hadn’t worn since college. Why had I even held onto them? None were practical for a day on my feet or chasing down giants and vampires, but my normal, ankle-high combat style boots just wouldn’t work with the dress up. I grabbed the wedges and hoped for the best. At least they were the right color. What had I ever been thinking, buying red pumps?

  A quick stop in front of the mirror to throw up my hair, a splash of water on my face, and... I patted myself down, looking for my gun and the two silver pins, both standard weaponry for any job. It took a moment, but I remembered I’d handed them off to Brutus at the estate before the giant showed up and wrecked things. Dammit. They were gone. Lucky for me, I kept backups. I went to the gun safe I kept in my closet, finding in it two more thick silver spikes I dropped into my belt. For a backup gun, I had a Glock G23. It was a .40 caliber handgun and I didn’t like it as much as my nine-millimeter because it had more recoil, but the Glock also left bigger holes in things. It had a bit more stop
ping power, which I normally didn’t need. I never went into a case planning to kill people.

  I got Hunter out to the truck at five minutes to nine and drove five over the speed limit all the way to the school.

  There weren’t many school-aged children in Paint Rock, thirty or so spread across kindergarten and all twelve grades. The number went up every year, and the school had been forced to compensate. It was now made up of two modular trailers instead of one. Hunter’s class was in Modular A, where he learned with the rest of the seventh through twelfth-grade kids. I stopped the truck outside and turned to Hunter. He’d already popped open the door.

  “Wait a second,” I said.

  He rolled his eyes, groaned, and closed the door. “What?”

  I hesitated. Time was short, but I needed to say the right thing. “Sal said you’re doing good.”

  “Yeah,” was his impatient response. “Can I go now?”

  “Your father would be proud to have seen you two getting along so well.”

  Hunter glared at me for a minute, his big eyes growing a little wet. Then he blinked once and turned away. “Whatever. I’m going to be late.” He opened the door and hopped out before I could say anything else.

  “Have a good day,” I called. “I love—” He slammed the door and I had to finish to an empty cab. “—you.”

  For two minutes, I sat alone with my silence, wondering if I’d said the right thing. Sometimes, my own ineptitude as a parent amazed me. For twelve long years, Hunter and I had lived together, eaten together, laughed together. We’d fought and cried together. After all that, I couldn’t talk to him without feeling like a brick wall would be more responsive. But bring Sal or Chanter around, and the kid was all ears. Somehow, the pack had replaced me, and he wasn’t even a full member yet.

  Ten long minutes later, I pulled into a parking spot at the precinct, more tired than ever. I scanned the other parked cars for any cars I hadn’t seen before only to come up empty.

  I put the truck in park, engaged the brake and jumped out, running full speed for my office. In the station, I nearly knocked over the first few cops I ran by. The duty sergeant shot up from her desk when I passed, calling my name. I didn’t stop. Out of breath, I finally reached my office door and threw it open.

  It was empty inside, the lights off, my desk a mess, exactly as I’d left it.

  “Agent Black,” said the duty sergeant, jogging up to me. She brushed aside a short strand of black hair and held out a post-it note with a hastily scribbled message on it. “I was told to tell you to go to this address.”

  I took the note and glanced down at the address before looking back to her. My blood turned to ice water when I realized the address corresponded to Kim Kelley’s mansion. “Who gave this to you?”

  She gave me a sour look. “What do I look like? Your damn secretary?” She turned her back to me, walking away while muttering to herself.

  I pocketed the note and stormed back out of the station, scowling. Whoever they’d called in somehow already knew about the lead with Kim. Since they’d gone to the house, by now, they also had some idea of what had happened yesterday, an incident I had yet to file paperwork on. Dammit. Another nail in my career coffin. It was just my luck they’d send someone who was relentlessly thorough. Hopefully, the guy was as good as he was irritating. I hadn’t even met him yet and, already, I was cursing at him.

  I drove out to the Kelley estate and pulled up beside my car. She was still there, untouched. The gate, though, was wide open. From the road, I couldn’t see any signs someone else was in the house, so I decided to just get back in the truck and drive it down the long, winding driveway.

  The house looked like a twister had hit it. Most of the roof had fallen in, leaving gaping holes on top and on the side of the house where I could see into some of the rooms. They looked tossed, furniture and papers everywhere. All the windows were shattered, broken glass littering the ground.

  I parked and got out, pulling my gun as soon as I did. I’d already seen what happened to the things the giant killed. If he hadn’t smashed all the security to pieces, a few of those draugr things could be wandering around. My gun pointed straight ahead, I closed on the front door, which looked intact. It had been unlatched and caught on a crosswind sweeping through the porch, slamming it rhythmically as the wind ebbed and flowed. Beyond, the inside of the house was impermeable darkness.

  A deep sense of foreboding settled into my bones. Magick had scarred the ground, and it would never be the same. The closer I came to the front door, the stronger the feeling became.

  I thought I heard footsteps behind me and stopped, turning a full circle to survey the yard. The only sound was the door flapping against the frame, so I turned back around—and almost into one of Kim’s fleur-de-lis soldiers.

  He didn’t look like any of the private security types I’d seen yesterday. One arm was twisted around the wrong way. His head fell low, chin resting against the bulletproof vest he was wearing. Blood matted on his head, and I could see the entirety of one ear, and half his face was gone, the white bone underneath exposed.

  “Holy hell,” I breathed, unable to contain my surprise.

  Slowly, his head lifted, and I saw black, spidery veins pulsating in his neck and temples. There was no life in his eyes. They’d gone cloudy and white, the pupils dilated. He made a hungry, groaning sound, and the backward-facing arm twitched as he flexed his jaw.

  I took a step back. Something moved in my peripheral vision. I turned my head and saw several more draugr crawl out from behind cacti, palm trees, and lawn décor.

  “So, it’s like that, is it?” I said. “Figures. The one day I dress up.”

  The draugr in front of me gave a gasping, rasping, and barking call before loping toward me, unbalanced. I fired a shot and hit it in the shoulder. The rounds I carried were silver jacketed in iron, guaranteed to slow down almost anything, but it didn’t faze the thing. It just kept coming. I sidestepped it, hoping it was as clumsy as it looked. I must’ve been in luck because it just stumbled on by for a few steps before it realized it had missed. It spun and threw its arms wildly just as I squeezed the trigger again. This time, the bullet found its mark between the eyes. The monster’s body jerked with the impact and he fell back, lying still.

  I turned, aiming for the next closest one. There were four of them in the courtyard, and with the help of six more bullets, I put them down.

  As I was about to congratulate myself, there was another rasping, barking call, and a fifth one stumbled out from beside the house. I turned and took a step back as it charged me, trying to aim for its head. But I miscalculated my step because of those damn shoes and backed up against one of the ones I’d already shot, losing my balance.

  I fell in slow motion, my feet flying out, the force of the impact combined with my surprise knocking me one way and the gun the other. My head hit the pavement and bounced. My vision spun. The undead soldier rasped and lunged, both arms outstretched. I brought my arms up defensively on instinct to hold it back while it tried to snap at me, gasping and rasping the whole time. For as strong as Annie had been, this one was even stronger. Numbness settled into my fingers, and every breath I took was a struggle against the cold emanating from the draugr. I was losing ground fast. My arms started to buckle.

  Just as I was about to lose my grip on his shoulders, there was the unmistakable click of a pump-action shotgun and, a fraction of a second later, his head exploded all over me. The body slumped down on top of me, and I was left lying face-up with strings of gore and brain all over me…again.

  A dark figure closed. I could make out the outline of a wide-brimmed hat, a long leather coat, and the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun pointed deadpan at my face. He shifted, blocking out the sun. The face behind the shotgun was unfamiliar. He had a crooked nose, chin-length, wavy and dark hair, strong cheekbones, and striking gray eyes. He lifted a prominent chin and offered in Russian, “Zdravstvujtye.”

  I lowered my head ba
ck to the pavement. “Don’t tell me. You’re the new guy.”

  One corner of his mouth curled, revealing a fang. Great, I thought. Just what this case needs. Another vampire.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “My name is Abraham Helsinki,” he offered, holding out a gloved hand.

  I pushed the body off of me, wiped some blood out of my face, and took it. The gloves were leather, and I could feel the light buzz of spellwork on them as they brushed against my aura.

  “Well, Abe,” I said, spitting on the ground just in case some of the mess had gotten into my mouth. “Sorry I missed you at the station.”

  “Abraham. And you missed some.” He pointed to my hair.

  I brushed my hands through it and came away with a chunk of brain. “Did I get it?”

  “Most of it.” Abe rested the shotgun against his shoulder and scanned the courtyard. “Do you know what these things are?”

  “I think the right word is draugr.”

  He reached down and pulled up one of the ones I’d dropped. Lifting the big man one-handed without so much as a grunt, he flopped a dead arm to the side and poked at a large hole in the man’s gut. When he pressed a finger to it, black oozed out. “Well, they’re certainly dead.”

  “So was the girl in the morgue,” I said, leaning in. “Didn’t stop Annie from trying to eat me.”

  “What girl in the morgue?” He dropped the body and turned back to me.

  “Uh…”

  I stumbled into that one. How do you tell your superior you had to shoot a dead body and ruin all the potential evidence before handing it over to a zombie rights activist? Which reminded me, Doc should have had an update for me. If I hadn’t broken my phone, I would have gotten a call from him by then. I made a mental note to drop by the clinic after I explained myself to my new partner.

  “Annie Cox. She and Harry Draft, AKA Harry Continelli, are the victims in this case.”

  “Right,” said Abe and gestured for me to continue. “What happened to her in the morgue again?”