The Judah Black Novels Box Set

by E. A. Copen

  My eyes widened, and my heart thumped a little harder. “You lost to Crux before?”

  Abe shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “He is significantly older and stronger than me. I was surprised only that he let me live. I suppose he believed himself so far above me I wasn’t worth killing.”

  “And you didn’t think to mention that before?”

  “I was eager for a rematch. Things will be different this time.”

  Above us, at the top of a curved staircase, the doors opened, and Kim entered. She’d changed her clothes, opting now for a simple black lace-up corset, leaving her arms bare, and black pants. I didn’t see her carrying any weapons when she came in and paused on the top stair. For a minute, I was worried until she turned and beckoned someone to enter behind her. It was two someones, in fact, and they came bearing an entire arsenal bound up in heavy cloth they carried in their arms. They wore a few small shields on their back and one carried a duffel bag. The men, who could have been dead ringers for the guards the giant killed earlier, plodded down the stairs as if the heavy roll of weapons weighed nothing, placing them on the floor in front of the three of us.

  Kim came down behind them and gave each of them a pat on the back. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I brought everything,” she said as the men unrolled the collection of weapons.

  There were knives, axes, maces, broad swords, and a katana or two. There was even a whip in there. Abe passed it all over, opting instead to take up a long, slightly curved saber. Its scabbard was a simple one of black and gold, but the hilt of the sword itself was more than just a curved handle. It was cylindrical and enclosed much of his hand when he gripped it. Drawing the blade and dropping the scabbard to the side, he gave it a few good practice swings, stepping back and forth.

  “This will do nicely,” he announced, going to retrieve the scabbard.

  I don’t personally know a lot about swords, but I thought he looked like he knew what he was doing. Creven looked worried, though.

  “What if he loses?” asked the elf, leaning into me.

  “He’s not going to lose,” I answered confidently.

  Kim gestured for her men to pick up the rest of the weapons and take them away. Then, she turned to me. “It’s going to be difficult for you to make this exchange if Sven isn’t here,” she pointed out.

  “Tindall should be bringing him any minute,” I told her. “But he’s not up to date on the situation. He wants to go back to his master, even after all Crux has done to him. I don’t get it. The guy’s totally dedicated to his abuser.”

  “It’s more than that.” Kim gestured to the two men who had followed her in. “Not everyone takes good care of their people, Judah. Before BSI laid down the laws and punishments concerning the treatment of our food, there were many vampires who would leave them weak and constantly on the brink of death, unable to defend themselves. Many had no mind or will of their own and, in fact, my kind once sought out those your kind rejected and placed in asylums. They were easy prey, and you certainly didn’t miss them.”

  When she beckoned to one of the men, he came over without even a hint of hesitation and stood in front of her as she continued speaking. “It’s easy to develop a preference for a type of food. We all have our favorites.” She scraped a fingernail under his chin, drawing blood. He didn’t so much as flinch. “But, feed too often on your favorite, and his mind becomes mush. Pleasing you is all he comes to think about, completely. The instinct for self-preservation all but disappears. They are blind, willing slaves, all too happy to please their masters.” She brought her bloody finger back to her lips and sucked on it, shuddering before she dismissed the man. “This is what has happened to Sven. The Stryx like their food mindless, unable to resist.”

  I turned my head away as she licked at the blood on her finger, my stomach doing flip flops. “That’s sick.”

  “And illegal here,” Kim pointed out with a smile. “American law now requires us to see to the mental and physical health of any and all humans we feed on. The documentation we have to provide just to be able to eat is astounding.”

  “With good reason.”

  She conceded the point with a tilt of her head. “I didn’t say I disagreed. But some do. Personally, I think easy prey is no fun. That’s why I keep a fully stocked pantry at all times. My father taught me to be picky, proud, and magnanimous with my humans. After all, without a sustainable food supply, my kind would quickly fall into war with each other over meager scraps, and who wants that?”

  “How pleasant for you,” I said, my gut still churning at the idea of vampires feeding on the helpless. That’s what the world would be like without BSI, what it must have been like for anyone who knew what was really out there. Sure, BSI wasn’t perfect, but it was the best idea I’d heard of so far. It was certainly better than what a lot of places had.

  I looked past Kim and saw Abe chatting with Robbie, the perfect escape from standing there talking to Kim. I approached them and overheard the end of the conversation.

  “It depends on what you want,” Robbie said as Abe stood by, jotting a phone number down. “But if you call the second number, ask for Jasmine. She does the kinkier stuff. Angel’s less keen on the whole biting thing.”

  “I hate to ask,” I said, cringing. “But what’s going on?”

  “Ah, good,” said Abe, putting away the pen and paper. “I was hoping you could do me a favor. Robbie here tells me you know a priest. He is a good priest, yes?”

  My gaze shifted from Abe to Robbie and back. “Why do you need a priest?”

  “For confession and last rights if needed, of course.”

  I hesitated with my answer, deciding how to tackle it. “Like, a Catholic priest, right?”

  “You act surprised.”

  “No. I mean…I guess. I just…” I leaned forward and said in a forced whisper, “You do know the church teaches all vampires are going to hell anyway, right?”

  “How many times do I have to remind you,” growled Abe through clenched teeth. “Half-vampire. Half!”

  “That’s kind of a technicality, don’t you think?”

  Robbie sniggered.

  “Don’t laugh. I’ll take Heaven on a technicality if that is all I get.”

  I sighed. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to Father Reed and bring him into this situation in any way, but I didn’t know any other priests. Any I found in a phone book or online would just refer me to Reed anyway. It was his job to give absolution to supernaturals, they’d say. Why not call him? What’s it going to hurt, I guess? I can’t fault the man for doing his job.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll call him.”

  “You’re a saint,” said Abe, patting me on the back.

  “That’s the first time I’ve ever been called that.”

  Abe gave me a salute and passed by, headed for the stairs out.

  “Where are you going?” I called after him. “You’ve got a duel in a few hours.”

  “He’s going to go get laid,” Robbie said with a grin.

  I shook my head as I watched him go, wondering how he could not see a problem with arranging a prostitute with Robbie and a priest with me in the same breath. “Well, he’d better be back in time and have his head in the fight.”

  “If you know a better way to clear your head than a good shag, let me know.” Robbie crossed his arms and paused, the laughter of a group of three Kings near a side exit drawing our attention. “Speaking of, the boys tell me you sorted one of their girls.”

  “Did they tell you I slugged Sal, too?” I gestured to the last few tables we needed to stack and we made our way over to them.

  “Among other things. Oh, don’t look so surprised, love. Nothing happens in this place I don’t know about. Information is my favorite currency, and rumor that Paint Rock’s very own federal agent has fallen in with a bad boy biker werewolf…” He smacked his lips. “You have no idea how juicy it is.”

  “Yeah, well, keep it to yourself,” I said, lowering
my voice. “Pass it around, it’s likely to do more harm than good, no matter how true it is.”

  Robbie grunted as he shoved the table hard against the wall and then rolled his eyes. “What would BSI think?”

  I decided a change in subject was in order, so I nodded toward Creven, who was inspecting some bottles behind the counter at the bar. “What do you make of the elf? As a fellow fae, I mean?”

  Robbie wrinkled his nose. “Elves are low fae. Half-bloods like your friend, except…different.”

  “Different?” I asked, lifting a chair and stacking it on top of another before sliding the stack against the wall. “Different how?”

  “Well, a half-vampire is half-human, too, right? Elves are what you get when a Sidhe beds any sort of low fae.”

  “The Sidhe… Those are like high fae, right?”

  “The highest. The bluebloods. Ruling class. But they’ve no love for elves, even if they are the half-children of the Sidhe. The Sidhe argue that’s akin to shagging an animal and us low fae… Since they’re all bastard offspring of Sidhe and tend to think they’re better than the rest of us, we don’t much care for them either.” Robbie cast a glance at Creven over his shoulder. “Of course, that’s how it is in Faerie. Once you come here, everyone’s on equal footing, be he a mighty goblin or a lowly elf. It’s why you’ll never see a Sidhe here, not by choice. They like their power and they’ll do anything to hold onto it.” Robbie made an even bigger stack of chairs than mine and pushed it along the floor one-handed.

  “So, there are no Sidhe on Earth?”

  “I said, not by choice. A few have done enough bad to get the boot. Banishment is serious business. A fate worse than death, some would argue.”

  “Creven says the instability in Faerie has to do with a coming war.”

  “Don’t know anything about it, love,” Robbie said. “And I don’t care to.”

  “You haven’t heard anything from any of the employees you hired?”

  He stopped and leaned on his stack, glaring at me. “If I did, what good would it do you or me? Let’s be honest. You only care because it’s causing trouble for you here. Given half a chance, you’d take all the fae and shove them back through a portal to where they came from. Worrying about a war in Faerie is like worrying about child soldiers in Africa when you’re a fat American. You just don’t. It’s outside of your experience. Why bother?”

  “And if part of the war were to spill over here?” I asked. “What then? What would you do?”

  “The same thing you ought to do,” Robbie said, shoving the chairs with a grunt. “Get the fuck out of the way and kiss the arse of whoever wins.”

  “That’s a shitty position. I’d think you’d support one side over the other.” He didn’t answer me, so I pressed him further. “You said you fought with an army before. Were you in the last war?”

  Robbie avoided my question. “If you want war stories, go talk to the bikers.”

  “But you must have a connection somewhere,” I pointed out. “Are you Seelie or Unseelie?”

  We both shoved the last of the chairs against our stack of tables before Robbie answered me. Turning to me stone-faced, he said, “Some stories about the past are best left buried, love. I’m just an old hobgoblin. I hire strippers, sell glamors and keep an ear to the ground for interesting tidbits. That’s all I am. It’s all I ever hope to be. I don’t complicate things, so why should you?” He grinned at me and shot another glance at Creven. “Now, back to your original question about the elf. What I make of him is this. Don’t ever trust an elf. They’re not bound by their word like the rest of us are. They’re sly devils and they’ll lie, steal, and con to get what they want. I wouldn’t trust that one as far as I could toss him.”

  “Knowing Creven,” I said. “That isn’t very far. He’s a tough little guy.”

  “All the more reason not to trust him,” Robbie said in a whisper. Then, he leaned back and laughed loud enough to attract the attention of everyone else in the room. “Of course, I don’t trust anyone I don’t see in a mirror, love, so take it for what it’s worth. But mark my words. Don’t get involved in fae politics. You think you humans have a political system in shambles. Wait ‘til you get a load of ours.”

  I swallowed as Robbie wandered off to shoo Creven away from the top shelf liquor. It was already too late for Robbie’s warning if what Creven said was true. I’d already tipped off someone Creven had called a very bad man, inadvertently taking a side in a war I had nothing to do with. I just had to hope it wasn’t going to come back and bite me in the ass.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Tindall brought Sven down onto the dance floor a short time later. The big guy wore an expression of worry. His big, sea-blue eyes drooped, and I swear his skin was a shade paler. Sven scratched at his five o’clock shadow and rubbed his drooping eyelids.

  I was glad Tindall had been smart enough not to put him in chains. The minute Sven realized he wasn’t going to make it back into his master’s care, he’d lose it. With magickal talent like that, who knew what he was capable of? It was best, we decided, to keep it a secret as long as possible.

  I showed him to one of two tables we’d left on the floor, hoping he wouldn’t notice all the sketching and warding on the floor underneath it. “Have a seat,” I said, pulling out a chair for him.

  Sven frowned and rubbed one bloodshot eye with the back of his hand. “Where is Crux? I need to see my master.”

  “He’s coming,” I assured him. “Just sit and wait here, okay?” When he sat, I asked, “Is there anything I can get for you, Sven? Did you get anything to eat?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not hungry. I just want to see Crux.”

  “Soon, big guy,” I promised, patting him on the back. “Just try to be patient.”

  “This is a bad idea,” Tindall said when I went to join him on the other side of the room. “You know that, don’t you, Black?”

  “I didn’t have a lot of options, Tindall.”

  I directed him back toward the front door. He’d offered to stay, but I didn’t want him to get hurt. I especially didn’t want him involved in any potentially compromising situations with the election coming up. No, it was best if Tindall sat this one out.

  As we made our way into the lobby, I asked, “How’s the collection for the commercial coming?”

  Tindall bobbed his head to the side. “One of the guys at the precinct has a cousin who works out at the public access channel. Looks like we’ve got enough to put together something small and have it out by next week. In the meantime, though, Maude’s just going to keep running his ads.”

  “Aw, Tindall, you know most people these days just fast forward past the commercials.”

  He put his hands in his pockets and turned to face me, leaning against the wall. “At this point, I don’t even care if I win. It’s not about that. The hate needs to stop. We’ve got to stop seeing them as the other guy and start seeing the werewolf or the vampire next door as our neighbor. It’s got to stop being about who we were and what we’ve done and become about what we’re going to do together. Maude and Marcus are going to stir an old, simmering pot. Even if I win, shit’s going to splash over the side somewhere, somehow. There’s too much of it now.”

  I nodded. “When shit hits the fan, Tindall, you know you can count on me.”

  The door to the club opened behind Tindall, and both of us turned to see who was coming in. Sal and the big Asian fellow with the katana had taken guard duty at the front door and both of them stepped up to block the entry of Father Gideon Reed. I almost went and told them I was expecting him but hesitated when I saw Ed was with him.

  “Shit,” I mumbled as I pushed past Tindall. “Ed, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “I brought him,” Reed announced, his face blank. “He asked for my help finding Mara. When you called, he assumed it was connected. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  I waved the bikers back. “I’m expecting the priest. You can esco
rt Ed out.”

  Sal put a hand on Ed’s shoulder. “Come on, Ed. Let’s go.”

  Ed shrugged Sal’s hand away and boldly glared up at him. “No. Mara’s in danger. I should be here.”

  “There’s nothing you can do,” said the guy with the katana. “We have things under control here.” He pushed Ed back gently.

  Ed ducked and stumbled forward, somehow wriggling past both of them before turning and standing, hands balled into fists, and announcing, “If you want me to leave, it’ll have to be in a body bag. I’m not leaving until Mara is safe!”

  “He has a lot of tenacity for a little guy,” said the other biker, smirking.

  Ed looked to me pleadingly. “Please, Judah. I’ll stay out of the way. I just want to make sure she’s safe.”

  Ed was determined, that was for sure. Even if I had them escort him out, he’d hang around in the parking lot and get himself into trouble. Ed was better off inside, close to me where I could keep an eye on him. He’d be a lot less likely to do something stupid.

  “Fine,” I announced and pointed a scolding finger at him. “But you stay out of the way and keep quiet. Everyone’s already on edge.”

  The bikers stepped aside and let Reed enter. The father was wearing all his official church garb and came carrying a small, leather-bound Bible. He took a few steps in and stopped just short of me, folding both hands over the book in front of him. “You said someone here requested a priest and I came, unarmed, as requested.”

  “Good, because there are already enough pointy objects involved here,” I said and gestured toward the main dance floor. “Abe’s stepped out, but he should be back before too long. He’s the one that asked for you. You can wait downstairs.”

  Reed hesitated, and something in his face changed as if he had something he wanted to tell me. Then, his expression hardened. He nodded, gripped his book and followed where I had pointed, going to the dance floor to wait.