The Judah Black Novels: Boxed Set of books 1-3

by E. A. Copen

  “I already know Elias was seeing a man. He went by the name Maria and danced out at Aisling. Best I can tell, the two of them were pretty serious. My guess is that Elias witnessed Leo's kidnapping and went to do something about it, bringing Maria as backup. Something didn't go as planned. The two of them split up. Maria got away. Elias didn't.”

  Father Reed nodded. “So you did go out to Aisling.”

  “Robbie is supposed to be trying to set up a meeting between me and Maria so I can put the last few pieces together. Only, even if Maria does tell me who the kidnappers and murderers are, she can't tell me why they're doing it or how to stop them.” I gestured back to the kitchen. “Do the Greenlee and Summers residences have Ways, too?”

  Reed's jaw flexed. “Yes.”

  “And the Garcia house?”

  “I don’t know. A particularly talented practitioner can open one wherever he needs it. Forcing one open, however, makes it painfully unstable.”

  “So, they must be using the Ways to move around.”

  “Judah,” said Reed sharply. “These are not rouge criminals out for thrills. There's more going on here, pieces in play that neither of us has seen yet. That group of thugs, they were wholly dedicated to destroying me and anyone in their way.”

  I nodded. “They think he can cure them. Turn them Human.”

  “Lord have mercy.” Reed closed his eyes. “What a terrible thing it must be to hate yourself so completely that you're willing to sacrifice the very thing that makes you unique to end the pain and suffering.” He sighed and rubbed the burned flesh on his side. “The night Elias died, Maria came to my home, shaking and covered in blood. She was afraid for her life but absolutely refused to talk to me about it. She only wanted me to make a phone call.”

  “Reed,” I said. “If you had come forward with this information sooner...”

  “I couldn't.” He looked away. “There's more going on in Paint Rock than a little unrest. There are powerful figures here, people that wouldn't like it if I'd gone around telling government agents everything I knew. I wouldn't be telling you now if I had any other choice. Judah, it isn't my life I'm worried about. It's yours.” He raised his eyes to mine as he spoke the last sentence. “I was the one that referred Maria to Robbie. I fear that perhaps that was a mistake, but I knew I couldn't protect her. She would be safer elsewhere.”

  “Do you have any idea where she's being held?”

  Reed shook his head. “But by now you must have heard of Marcus Kelley. He's the one Robbie went to in order to hide her. That vampire is behind everything in the entire county. I wasn't here two days before they showed up at my door and told me that, if I wanted to preach in their town, I needed to pay my dues.”

  “Reed...” I extended a hand and placed it over top of his. “What are they making you do?”

  There was silence for a moment as Reed retracted his hand. “Maria is under the protection of Marcus Kelley. I don't know where she is but I am certain she can bring you to whoever murdered the Summers and Elias Garcia.”

  “Then we have no choice but to sit and wait for Robbie to call back,” I said with a sigh.

  A sudden knock at the door shattered the silence and made us both jump. “Judah Black,” came Chanter's voice through my front door. “Open the door before I break it down.” He said it calmly, but I was quickly learning that a calm voice didn't mean anything when it came to werewolves.

  I went to the door and opened it a crack. “That didn’t take long.”

  “Where is he?” Chanter pushed it the rest of the way open and stormed inside uninvited.

  “You can't barge in here!”

  “What happened?” He turned a half circle and stopped when he saw Reed sitting, stripped down with bandages all over. Father Reed smiled and waved.

  “Chanter, why the hell are you here?” I said, crossing my arms.

  “You called,” he said simply, as if that should explain everything. “Your call ended abruptly. I thought you might be in trouble and your boy wouldn't quiet himself until I came to check on you.”

  I went to the front door and pushed it back open, looking out toward Chanter's truck to see if Hunter had come with him. The truck was empty. “Where's Hunter?”

  “With Ed,” said Chanter. Then he threw a snarl in Reed's direction. “What happened to you?”

  Reed started to answer but I interrupted him. “Chanter, please. I'm fine. We're both fine. Thanks for coming to check up on me but I really need you to be well rested and clear headed... and to stay with Hunter.” If the kidnappers were moving through Ways, they could be anywhere. “Chanter,” I said, interrupting the glaring contest going on between him and Reed. “What do you know about Ways?”

  Chanter frowned, folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. “I see the priest has been filling your head with nonsense. There are no Ways. They're fairy tales.”

  “That's what people used to say about werewolves, too,” I reminded him. “And yet here you are. Humor me. If there are Ways, what would you need to open one?”

  Chanter shrugged. “Knowledge that it was there, for one. A lot of magick for another. Why?”

  Reed pushed himself off the sofa but fell back with a grunt. “Judah, whatever it is you're thinking, I would advise against it. Ways are not something you should just walk into. I wouldn't use one unless I had absolutely no other choice.”

  “I need to know if that's how the kidnapper is getting in and out of the houses,” I said as Chanter pushed past me in more of a huff than usual. “And if that's how they got in and out of the Summers house.”

  “What difference does it make how they got in and out?” Chanter said and sat down next to Reed. “Unless you intend to follow them through and trace the Ways back to the source?” I turned my head away from Chanter so that he wouldn't see he'd gotten it right. “Do you think we're stupid, girl? You don't even know what you'd be walking into. Whoever did this killed the Summers, framed Saloso, kidnapped three children and left a body part at your doorstep, all without being seen. That means it's either invisible or...”

  “Dangerously powerful,” Reed finished. “Certainly no match for you or I.”

  “If it bleeds, we can kill it,” I said. “And if it uses magick, we can track it.”

  “Maria would know better about what you're getting into,” Reed said, shoving Chanter's hands away as the old Indian came to look at my bandaging. “Promise me you'll at least speak with her first before you go walking into only God knows what. At least then, you can be prepared.”

  I considered Reed's words carefully. As eager as I was to get the bad guy, he was right. I needed to know what I was walking into first. I couldn't very well pick out a proper way to kill it if I didn't know what it was. Maria would also know how many goons I could expect to find waiting for me, protecting their master. If Reed was right, and this was some kind of band of killers and kidnappers and not just one or two guys, then I couldn't very well go alone, either. I was going to need to bring help. Choosing the right help meant knowing more about my perp.

  “All right. Chanter, you fix him up. Then, Reed, you and I are going to go lean on Robbie again, see if we can't speed this up. Then, we go get weapons and go after the son of a bitch that's behind this.”

  “Judah,” Reed protested with a sigh. “Even with healing, I'm in no shape to go anywhere and neither are you. We should wait until Robbie calls.”

  “I'm tired of waiting.”

  “If you push, Maria will only be more hesitant to talk to you,” Reed reminded me. Dammit. I hated to admit it but the priest was right. Maria was already scared half to death and the only back up I had access to had almost bled to death in my cupboard.

  “Fine,” I said, sinking down into my chair. “But if he hasn't called by morning, we're going to him.”

  Chanter smiled at that and put a hand on Reed's shoulder, hard enough that the priest winced. “Remind me not to make the little white girl angry, priest.”

  “Though she be
little, she is fierce,” Reed quoted. “And your hands are like ice, old man.”

  “Be quiet,” Chanter growled. “Or I might make a mistake you'll regret more than me.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Chanter left after making sure Reed wasn't going to die but insisted I let him rest at least a few hours before we went looking for more trouble. It was four thirty in the morning before I finally got Reed on the road to drive him home. We piled into the truck after I called once more to check on Hunter who had decided to stay over at Chanter's until this was all over. Reed winced as he buckled in but didn't give any other signs that he was still in recovery. He'd thrown on a pair of sweats that Chanter had in his truck and a t-shirt advertising some beach resort I'd never been to.

  I frowned at the naked blade resting across his lap. “Do you really need to haul that everywhere you go?”

  “Walk softly but carry a big stick,” he said adjusting his seat belt. “This is my stick.”

  “You light it on fire and cut the heads off of vampires with it,” I said, turning the engine over. “You don't get to call it just a stick.” I turned on the radio as I pulled back onto the road. Years of driving around in my hunk of junk with the radio stuck on meant I couldn't drive without it now. It was as essential as gasoline for me. We drove on without conversation for a while, the barely audible hum of the radio and the purr of the engine the only sounds in the cab. After a while, Reed frowned down at my radio. “What station is this?”

  “The one my other car is stuck on.”

  “Turn it up.”

  I did as he asked and pretty soon found that he was singing along to Bon Jovi. I smiled to myself. “I never figured you a Bon Jovi fan.”

  He held up a finger and sang through the chorus loudly before answering. “Did you think I sat around with my hymnal all day? I have radios, too. Good taste in music isn't a sin.”

  “I guess there's just no accounting for taste when it comes to fashion and religion in your case, huh?”

  To my surprise, he laughed. “Yes, well, I didn't pick the uniform. It chose me. I'm here, doing what I do because I can't imagine myself doing anything else. God gave us each our own talents. I'm a much better priest than I am a singer, I promise.”

  “No offense, father, but don't invite me to a service. I don't want to have to turn you down. That'd make this all awkward.”

  “There are more ways to do His work than to sit in a pew once a week and listen to me drone on,” he said, polishing the blade of his sword with his sleeve. Reed nodded. “I apologize for not telling you about Robbie before. I wasn't sure I could trust you.”

  “A lot of that going around,” I said. “What do you know about Robbie, anyway?”

  “He may seem harmless but Robbie can hold his own. He's fae so don't be loose with your words.”

  “What kind of fae?” I asked.

  “Hobgoblin.”

  I frowned. Hobgoblins were a subtype of fae I didn’t see often, mostly because they're almost extinct. They employed a specific place on the fae social hierarchy of scary things, somewhere between the sadistic, gore loving goblin and the friendly but tricky brownie. They were basically what you'd get if you crossed the two. The one thing hobgoblins were well known for in BSI was their love of practical jokes. By practical jokes, I mean they think it's hilarious to fill apartments with gas and wait for you to light a cigarette. Like their goblin cousins, they had a thing for fire. Fire plus twisted sense of humor didn't often turn out well for the butt of the joke. BSI employed a few on their demolition squad. Don't ask me why BSI needed a group of people to blow up buildings. National security and all that. And if you buy that, I've got a bridge in Alaska to sell you.

  “So, what's a hobgoblin doing running a strip club?” I mused, shaking my head. “Shouldn't he be more drawn to something like the fire department?”

  “Agent Black, if you can figure out why anyone in Concho County does what they do, you'll be ahead of the curve.”

  The one stoplight in all of Paint rock was red when I hit it. “Jesus Christ, I can't catch a break, can I? Damn it all to Hell.”

  “Please, Judah. Don't abuse His name.”

  “Sorry. Damn it all to heck.”

  Reed sighed and crossed himself. “I'm going to be saying a good many Hail Mary's on your behalf, aren't I?”

  I laughed, looked in all directions and decided to speed through the never ending red light. Beside me, Reed sucked in a deep breath and shook his head. “So, what do you know about Marcus Kelley?” I asked him.

  “Next to nothing, unfortunately. I've never met him. All I know is that a fair amount of his personal finances is tied up in philanthropic enterprises surrounding Paint Rock.”

  I frowned. “He ordered his lackeys to write me a check for twenty-five thousand dollars,” I said and then glanced over at Father Reed. “What is he trying to bribe me for?”

  Reed directed his gaze out the window. “I need to feed my cat.”

  ~

  I dropped Reed off at the church so that he could retrieve his car. I'd wanted to hit the ground running and get everything done in one fell swoop but that clearly wasn't going to happen. Reed insisted he was fine enough to drive and that he needed to get home to feed his cat so I made the drive home alone, watching the sun come up over another sleepless night.

  As I drove, I thought about my last job. Cleveland hadn't felt like much of an improvement over Philly but it sure as hell sounded cushy now. The station there had a bunkhouse where dead tired cops could go and pass out for an hour or two without having to drag their work weary selves home. I used to crash on those bunks all the time. All it took was a call to my neighbor who'd come in and check on Hunter and I could get a power nap. The local cops didn't care one way or the other about me being there and using their facilities. Here, I couldn't walk through the front door of the station without feeling like I had to justify myself. Now, I had to drive all the way out to the edge of the rez for a little shut eye. I couldn't even sleep in the truck because the damn desert sun would burn me alive. What I wouldn't give for one of those crappy cots right about now...

  I started awake and tried to swerve back into the right lane only to see the white Jag blocking the roadway. Panic caused me to over-correct, jerking the steering wheel suddenly and slamming my foot down on the brake without down shifting. The engine stalled out and I drifted off into the desert at thirty miles an hour, powerless to do anything but steer myself to a descent stop, which I somehow managed to do without wrecking.

  Still shaking, I gripped the steering wheel tight and rested my head against it, trying to get reason to overcome adrenaline. That could have been bad, I thought. Really bad. I was exhausted, too exhausted to be behind the wheel of a moving vehicle. I needed sleep but that was going to have to wait.

  I adjusted my rear-view mirror to see Andre LeDuc strolling through the desert after me. Shit. I adjusted the gear back into neutral and tried to start her back up. The engine coughed but refused to turn over. “Come on,” I whispered. My prayer came out in white wisps of cloudy breath and I shivered. Something was wrong. It was mid-July in Texas. There was no way it was cold. Yet frost slowly crept up the outside of the truck windows and the inside dropped a fully forty or fifty degrees in the space of a minute. I gave up on the idea of starting the truck back up in favor of trying to get out but the extreme temperature change had made my muscles stiff and slow to respond. The inside door handles were covered in an inch of ice by the time I managed to find one, my teeth chattering.

  Andre LeDuc walked up to stand on the other side of the driver's side window and looked in at me with an unnatural coolness in his eyes. He surveyed the truck with feigned interest while I hugged my body tight and tried to regulate my breathing. It had to be below freezing inside the truck now and the temperature was continuing to drop. If it didn't let up soon, I'd be the first woman to freeze to death on a ninety-degree day.

  “Agent Black,” said LeDuc, his voice muffled by a l
ayer of ice covered glass. “Ever the curious cat, aren't we? But you know what they say about curiosity and the cat.”

  “L-L-LeDuc,” I stammered. “You...” I wanted to say something else, but I'd lost all the feeling in my nose, lips and fingers.

  “Don't strain yourself,” he mused.

  LeDuc stretched out one little finger and placed it lightly on the outside of the glass. The window exploded inward. A thousand tiny bits of safety glass sailed through the air and bounced off my skin. The desert heat flooded in and I choked out a breath. LeDuc casually reached in through the broken window, unlocked my door and then opened it from the outside. He gripped my seat belt and tore it away from me as if it were made of paper and then pulled me out with both hands, dumping me in the sand. The temperature change was too sudden for me to adjust. Pain welled up in my chest and my heart skipped a beat. My head spun. LeDuc's little trick had rendered me absolutely helpless until the shock wore off.

  He smiled down at me while I rocked back and forth in pain and then grabbed the back of my shirt. Sand and dirt scraped against my back as he dragged me back toward the road.

  The passenger side door to his Jaguar creaked as he opened it. “You and I are due for a talk, Black,” he said smugly and shoved me inside.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sometimes, I wish I was a vigilante superhero instead of a law enforcement officer. Things would be so much easier. I wouldn't have to worry about the burden of proof or answering to my superiors. There wouldn't be any paperwork if I somehow found myself recovering from shock, speeding along at forty miles an hour next to the man I was sure had taken three children and had a hand in murdering three adults. Those were just the ones I knew about. Someone like Andre LeDuc, he was the kind that left a trail of bodies behind him wherever he went.

  I managed to relax enough that I could sit up in the car and look out the window. We were driving around the perimeter of the reservation on a series of streets I'd never been on before. The trailers and hastily constructed houses fell in a haphazard pattern, all grouped close enough together that a good spark would have sent the whole neighborhood up in flames.