The Judah Black Novels Box Set

by E. A. Copen

  The sanctuary stilled. Even the particulate dust floating in the air seemed to freeze. I held my breath. There was no way I was giving Seamus the Sword of Light. I’d promised Reed I’d keep it safe, and I don’t break my word.

  I lifted my chin. “You can’t hurt me. Not for three more months. You’d be violating your word.”

  Seamus’ hand drifted back to his side. His eyes gleamed a brighter gold, but maybe that was just the rising sun reflecting through the window. “I don’t have to hurt you to get what I want.”

  His head snapped to the side, and he threw a hand out toward Ed. Ed’s body jerked forward, and he bent over with an agonizing sound.

  “He came to avenge his lost love,” Seamus said as he lifted Ed with unseen power. “A noble cause. He even had some of that marvelous dust with him that should have protected him against Warren’s power, but Warren found him first. Sad, isn’t it?”

  Ed’s cheeks puffed outward a moment before blood exploded out of his mouth. Seamus dropped him, and he went to his knees and clutched his stomach, crying out in pain.

  Seamus made a fist and Ed bent over again, vomiting more blood.

  “Let him go!” I shouted and rushed forward. Green flame raced down the blade. I swung it at Seamus’ unprotected head with a loud grunt.

  Seamus put a hand up and caught the blade with his bare hand. I threw all my weight behind it, but the sword wouldn’t cut through. All I managed was to slice his skin. Seamus grimaced and his eyes gleamed even brighter as his blood dripped down the blade. “You got lucky before. Don’t expect to strike me again. You should know better than to use a fae blade against a Lord of Faerie!”

  In the front of the church, a shotgun clicked and fired. Seamus extended his other hand toward Abe and the buckshot froze in the air, trembling for a moment before falling harmlessly to the floor. Abe lowered his gun, eyes wide and jaw slack.

  Seamus’ fingers tightened around the blade. I thought he was trying to pull it away from me, so I pulled back. Instead, he used the momentum and his magick to redirect the sword. It flew out of my hands at the speed of a fired bullet and straight for Abe.

  I blinked, and the next thing I knew, Abe had been skewered through the lower abdomen with the sword, a sword now covered in poisonous fae blood. A sword that had inflicted injuries Abe couldn’t heal.

  Abe looked down at the blade sticking out of his stomach, reached down to pull it out, and crumpled to the ground.

  Unarmed, I was still far from helpless. I drew my hands into fists and threw a hard, magick-backed right hook at Seamus. He ducked it, but only barely. When he bobbed up, he swept a foot against my ankle and sent me falling forward. I caught myself and turned, expecting him to attack again, but he didn’t. Seamus just stood there while Abe died of poison, Creven lay unconscious, and Ed continually vomited blood.

  “My patience is growing thin, and you are running out of friends,” Seamus said in a calm voice. “Give the sword to me.”

  I pushed off the ground to stand. “If you want it so bad, why don’t you just take it?”

  “Because it won’t obey me!” Seamus hissed. “The sword only heeds its master’s call. Give it to me and surrender your ownership.” He pointed a finger at Ed, who screamed and convulsed. “Once I run out of people here, Judah, I’ll have to go to your home. I’d hate to harm your children, but if I must, I will.”

  I turned my head and focused on the sword still sticking out of Abe. Seamus would do it. I knew he would. He’d kill everyone in Paint Rock if he had to. Keeping the sword away from him wasn’t worth that. Whatever he did with it, at least I would still have the people I loved. Wasn’t that what was important?

  “Don’t do it, lass.” I turned and saw Creven standing, bloodied, with one foot through the hole in the wall. “You’ve no idea what kind of damage he can do with that.”

  Seamus smirked at Creven. “Yes, but that damage will be in Faerie, not here. What does a human care?”

  “Judah cares. She won’t let a monster like you have it.”

  My hands shook, and I felt panic rising in my throat. All the images Hector had shown me flashed in front of my eyes again. I re-lived holding my dead son in my arms, watching Sal die, watching Mia scream and reach for me, begging to be saved as the life was torn out of her. A tear raced down the side of my nose and I wiped it away. “I can’t, Creven,” I said in a shaky voice. He turned his head toward me slowly. “It’s my family. I can’t.”

  Creven’s eyes dimmed. He closed them and turned away a moment before recovering to glare at Seamus. “Then I will.” Magick crackled in the air, and Creven hurled his staff at Seamus.

  Seamus put an arm up, and the staff exploded in midair. A particularly large chunk hurled forward and sliced into Seamus’ face. The fae necromancer stumbled forward, turning back with a growl. “That is the last time you’ll strike me, son.”

  “That’s the last time you’ll call me yer son!” Creven shouted and swept his arm in a wide arc. Blue fire erupted in the air. Seamus put up a shield of spinning black magick.

  I turned to assess the situation. Ed’s body was pale and still. He lay on the floor in a fetal position, surrounded by blood.

  I took a step toward Abe. He wasn’t moving, either, and the pool of blood around him had stopped growing. Was he dead already? How many more would have to die before it was too many?

  Blood rushed in my ears. My limbs all felt numb as I marched toward Abe, the battle between Creven and Seamus raging behind me.

  Abe’s eyes opened when I stopped beside him. “Judah,” he said weakly, “take it. Leave. Run. Hide the sword. Do not give it to him.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. Behind me, there was a loud crack. I turned and watched as Creven stumbled back, bloodied now from head to toe. He fell to one knee as Seamus closed in on him for the kill.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to Abe. “I’m not running. Not this time.”

  He grunted when I pulled the sword out of his stomach. It was more effort than I thought it would be and had to leverage myself by putting a foot on Abe’s chest. It came free with a wet sucking sound.

  “Seamus!” I screamed.

  He halted his advance on Creven and turned toward me, expectant.

  I screamed and swung the sword, striking the ground. Black fire sped from the blade at lightning speed across the floor. Powered by me and filtered through the sword, I couldn’t predict the effects, but I hoped I was right. It slammed into Seamus. He fell back, roaring in pain and swatting at the fire. I was right. It wasn’t just the sword that could hurt him, but any magick that came through it. I might not have known how to handle a sword, but I did know about magick.

  I swung the sword again, visions of a world on fire flashing through my mind.

  And again.

  I was blind to where I was swinging, letting the shadow fire guide me. It latched onto my anger at being helpless, the pain at being tortured, the loss. It wasn’t just Seamus who deserved to die. The whole world could burn. What good was it to live in a world with so much pain and suffering? All that waited for me was death.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and saw Mia staring up at me, big eyes gold and innocent.

  Something in my heart seized.

  Mia.

  Family.

  Hope.

  That was worth living for.

  I opened my eyes and focused on regaining control over my hands. They shook as the magick raced through me and into the weapon. Flame curled up all around me, searing my skin. Tears raced down my face and then evaporated in the heat. With a loud scream, I pulled my hands away from the sword.

  It clattered lifeless to the floor, and I sank down next to it.

  “Lass!” Creven coughed and tugged on me, but I didn’t have the energy to get up. “Get up, lass!”

  Get up! The memory of Chanter’s voice in my head cut through the exhaustion and I somehow found the will to stand, leaning on Creven.

  As I rose, I caught sight of a shad
ow in the fire. The flame cleared a moment to reveal Seamus glaring at me with an arm protectively in front of his face. Part of his silver armor had melted, and some of his unprotected hand was black from where he’d been burned. If hatred were a living, breathing thing, Seamus was its embodiment.

  The fire surged and hid him from view. When the flame danced away, all that remained was the swirling green vortex of a Way.

  Creven knelt and grabbed the sword. “Let’s go!” He pushed me toward the door.

  “What about Abe and Ed?”

  “Have to come back for them,” Creven huffed.

  We burst through the crumbling doorway, and Creven shoved me forward. “Go!” he shouted before turning and walking back into the fire.

  I staggered back from the burning church, jaw dropping. What had I done?

  What was left of the roof caved and my heart jumped. My friends were still inside. I’d be damned if I was going to let them burn alive because of me. I closed my eyes and concentrated, calling up the tiny, magick shield. Then, I charged into the fire after Creven, Ed, and Abe.

  The heat took my breath away. I felt it biting at me, burning me. My shirt and pants caught fire and burned, taking my skin with it. Still, I pressed forward.

  I found Abe and knelt next to him, shielding him as best I could from the fire.

  “You stupid, stubborn woman,” he said. “I am dead anyway. Why come back for me?”

  I turned my head away from the heat to draw in a breath. “That’s what partners do!” I shouted over the roar of the flame. “You came back for me.”

  A shape moved nearby, and I thought I heard someone call my name. I squinted in the direction of the noise and watched as the flame parted in front of Creven. He broke through the ashes, Ed slung over his shoulder and stopped to tug Abe up. Together, we managed to lift Abe and hold him between us.

  “Keep that shield up, lass. I’m no pyromancer, but I’ll do my best to move the worst of the fire away from us! Now, let’s go!”

  We must have looked the sight when we stumbled out the broken door of the church, holding each other up. Once we were a safe distance from the fire, the four of us collapsed, gasping and patting out flames.

  “Is he breathing?” I asked Creven of Ed.

  “Aye. And yours?”

  I turned and gave Abe a weak punch in the arm.

  “Let me die in peace,” he growled.

  “Still kicking,” I reported and leaned my head back to stare at the smoke rising against the bright blue sky.

  Sirens sang in the distance.

  I smiled. “Looks like you’re going to make it after all, Abe.”

  Abe’s answer was a pained moan.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The trip I took in the ambulance was is a blur. I remember feeling light, as if I would float away if they removed the straps from over me. There were words, numbers, frantic calculations, and measurements tossed back and forth as monitors went on and off. I was tired, so tired, but with all the noise, I couldn’t sleep. All I wanted was for the noise to stop.

  We went over a bump, and my hand flopped free of its own accord. Strong hands closed around mine. Sal’s face loomed in my vision. At least I wouldn’t be alone. “Don’t close your eyes,” he said.

  I tried to tell him how tired I was, but no sound would come out. He’d understand. I just needed a little nap. I closed my eyes.

  The next time I opened them, it was against more beeping. My eyelids fluttered open just a slit to look through the blinds on a third- or fourth-story window out into a gray afternoon. Rain tapped lightly against the window. Sal stood with his back to me, facing out the window with his arms crossed. His body language looked stressed. I couldn’t understand why.

  “Sal?” My voice was dry and cracked.

  Sal turned around. “Judah?” he rushed to my side and called, “She’s awake in here! Judah, try not to move. You were burned really bad.” He put his hands on my shoulders, trying to force me back into bed.

  “Burned?” Memories of the fire came back to me. Warren was dead. I’d kept Seamus from getting the Sword of Light. We’d won, and I was still alive. But the others… My eyes widened, and I grabbed Sal’s shirt. “Ed? Abe?”

  “Both alive.” He put his hand over mine. “Abe was touch-and-go for a while. It’s not often the doctors around here get to patch up a vampire. They normally heal on their own.”

  I relaxed in the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “What day is it?”

  “You went to the church yesterday.” Sal brushed some hair out of my face. “When you came in, they thought they were going to lose you. No one can explain your miracle recovery. You’re hardly hurt at all now.”

  I smiled to myself. Marcus’ little miracle drug was responsible for that.

  “You might also be interested to know that the local leaders of the Vanguard of Humanity have been arrested and charged with three counts of arson and a whole lot of murders each.”

  “So, that’s who Dick decided to frame.” I closed my eyes.

  “I suspect they’ll find at least one of them was connected to Senator Grahm, however remotely. That’s been his plan all along—getting rid of the senator.”

  I nodded. Framing the Vanguard would likely make things worse in the short run. The few that were in hiding might come out and cause problems, especially for the Kings.

  “So, what now?” I said. “Where does everything go from here?”

  “Well, first of all, you finish healing. Whatever crap Marcus gave you to help you heal faster seems to have worn off. I’m almost back to normal, so I can help.” He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “Second, with everything that happened, I thought it best to delay the funerals. I thought you might want to speak. It’s supposed to be tomorrow. I think, with a little help from me, we can have you on your feet by then.”

  I nodded. “Has anyone heard anything from Seamus?”

  Sal shook his head. “But he gave you his word. He’ll be back.”

  My fingers closed around the blanket, pulling it closer. Yeah, he’d be back, and this time I knew how to hurt him. For the first time in nine months, I had a shot at taking that asshole down.

  “Hey, Sal? What happened to Espinoza? Did he make it?” I studied Sal’s face as he considered his answer.

  “As far as I know, he’s alive…somewhere. No one’s seen him. My guess? Marcus has him somewhere. Maybe he’s got him to keep Abe in line. You know how vampires are.” He shrugged. “Then again, maybe it’s just because he’s a new vampire and not very good at controlling himself. Either way, Tindall says he’s holding Espinoza’s post open until he knows one way or the other.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “A vampire cop?”

  “Come on, Judah,” Sal said with a chuckle. “The guy is already a walking cliché. Why the hell not?” Sal slipped his hand in mine. “Now, how about we get you fixed up and take you home?”

  The little white church in Paint Rock could only hold about a hundred people in the sanctuary, so the crowd spilled outside. Ed hadn’t recovered enough to climb up any ladders, so that left the rest of the pack to try to figure out how to wire speakers into the place so the people outside could hear.

  It was a sunny day, perfect weather for everyone but the vampires, but even they showed up in force. I had a feeling that, even if it had rained, there would have been a hell of a turnout.

  I twisted in my seat in the front row, glancing back at all the faces. It wasn’t just the people of Paint Rock who had come. Everyone was there. Marcus slid in to sit in the back in a deep-black suit. Patsy slid in beside him, and she hadn’t stopped talking since. Marcus’ attention was fixed on his daughter, Kim, and Robbie, who had managed to find something that wasn’t gaudy to wear for once. Yes, Robbie was actually in a suit, and he looked miserable in it.

  The Kings sat together in one of the middle rows. They were easy to spot since all of them had worn their patched jackets with the Kings’ logo on it.

  A
nd, of course, the pack was there. Everyone but Ed sat in the third row, crammed together to be there for Ed.

  The last of the viewing line neared the two coffins at the front of the church. Mara was in the one to the right. Ed had insisted she be buried in an old shirt of hers he’d kept, a long-sleeved black hoodie. Looking down at her, it had been hard to believe it was Mara. She looked so small, so frail. She wasn’t the girl I’d known. Mara was tough and strong. She’d died fighting in her own way, and that’s how I would choose to remember her.

  Reed, of course, had to be buried in his cassock with his rosary in his hands. There was a part of me that wanted to leave the sword with him, too. It felt wrong to see him unarmed. In the end, I’d decided to arm him with the old, leather Bible he kept in his study. His Faith had always been his strongest weapon, after all.

  Sal put a hand on my leg. “You sure you’re up for this? You don’t have to go up there. Everyone will understand.”

  “I have to do it for them,” I said and patted his hand. “They did this for me. I can say a few words, even if what I have to say will never be thanks enough.”

  Once everyone had taken their seats, the bishop came out and began his part of the service. Valentino had gone to a lot of trouble to get someone important to come down, insisting that this was not just another church in the middle of nowhere. We were somebody, Reed was somebody, and he was going to have the best damn send-off we could manage.

  When the bishop finished his short sermon, he opened the pulpit to anyone who wanted to speak. Ed rose from the front pew on the other side of the sanctuary, leaning heavily on a four-legged cane. He winced as he climbed the few stars to stand in front of the pulpit. The microphone squealed when he pulled it down to his height.

  His hands shook as he unfolded a crumpled sheet of paper. “Mara was a lot of things,” he began, “but she never thought of herself as a good person. She didn’t think she was ever smart enough, strong enough, pretty enough...good enough.” Ed paused to swallow. “They say everyone’s got an inner battle. You never know what someone is going through. Those inner battles we fight every day made her feel weak, but she wasn’t. Mara was the strongest person I knew. She was strong because she kept going, even fighting those battles. Even when she was alone in her fight. She kept me going. She was…She was enough. I always used to say it wasn’t her that wasn’t good enough for the world, but that the rest of the world wasn’t good enough for her.”