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

by E. A. Copen

  “Life used to be so simple,” Andre said suddenly. He had a thoughtful but pleased with himself kind of look on his face. “Once, people actively worked to make the world a better place. Mankind was generally a progressive race, always seeking out new ways to change the world for the better. It's why humanity developed that big brain. Progress. That's what America is built on.”

  “You're Canadian,” I pointed out.

  LeDuc chuckled. “But you're not. You must understand that progress comes at a price.”

  “If that price includes innocent children then you can keep your progress.”

  He shot me a warning glance that turned into a smile, making me shiver all over again. “Did you know the most widely used technique in western medicine to save hypothermia victims was developed by Nazi scientists?” he said matter-of-factly. “In fact, almost all of our advancements in medical science came about because of some kind of war time atrocity. Human experimentation, while extremely controversial and ethically charged, is still used today in most fields. Scientists and doctors just don't talk about it. We don't like to admit that medicine and science kills more people than it saves.”

  “Is that an admission?” I asked turning to face him.

  “It's fact. The rate of MRSA is highest in hospitals and the percentage of patients who die in surgery, even routine surgery, is staggering. The United States has one of the highest infant mortality rates of any developed country in the world, despite the fact that we know why and how to change that. And those are just the human problems. The werewolves, the vampires and the fae have it even worse. Seven out of ten adolescent werewolves today attempt suicide. Over half of them succeed. Medical science has yet to explore the biology of most fae and a large amount of vampires die of acute but preventable organ failure.” He pursed his lips. “We have all the ingredients for a healthcare revolution at our fingertips and yet we squander it on developing generic Viagra and new weight loss procedures. And why? Because the human urge to consume now outweighs their desire to survive. They've become cattle. They are born. They breed. They die. There is no purpose for them beyond that. They have become less than human.”

  “What about the families of Paint Rock?” I asked and gestured to the houses we were passing by. “Most of them aren't human.”

  “Most of them accept their fate,” Andre snarled, his upper lip curling. “It's a psychological condition called learned helplessness and your organization fosters it with unmatched ferocity. This social experiment that is Paint Rock, it cannot be allowed to stand. Those that wish to stand with the humans, let them stand and let them fall. No one should be forced to fight for something he doesn't believe in.”

  “That sounds like revolution talk,” I told him and watched his expression harden. “Like treason.”

  “If I were American, perhaps. But I answer to a higher authority. When I became a physician, I swore an oath to use my knowledge to save people's lives.”

  “Like you saved Elias Garcia and Donald and Teagan Summers?”

  I expected him to deny the claim but Andre simply lifted his head an inch or two and directed his car back onto the main road. “Sometimes a few must be sacrificed in pursuit of the greater good.”

  At that moment, I knew Andre LeDuc was a self-obsessed, idealistic madman. Whatever good he thought he was doing had become more than a mission for him. It was the reason for every breath he drew and he would stop at nothing to see his dream realized. He had ambition. From another point of view, I supposed, some might see him as a hero instead of a raving lunatic. It all just depended on which side of the crazy you stood on.

  I let the silence drone on for a few minutes, trying to guess where he was taking me. So far, we'd only driven around in circles, touring the town. Maybe he was looking for a secluded place to kill me. No, I thought. If he wanted to kill me, he would have done it already. He could have done that while I was still trapped in the truck. This is about something else.

  “Okay, LeDuc,” I said, throwing my hands up weakly in a gesture of surrender. “You're obviously not going to kill me or you would have done it already. What is this all about?”

  “This is where you get off,” he said, though he obviously didn't mean it in the literal sense. “No more investigating the Garcia murder. No more looking for the missing children. I will deliver you safely home after which you will pick up your phone, call your home office and immediately resign your position. Tomorrow morning, you will call a moving truck in which you will place all of your possessions and you will leave Paint Rock never to return.”

  “You've got to be joking,” I said, though by the looks of him, Andre was dead serious.

  “This is a one-time only offer,” he replied. “Any deviation from the plan I just outlined will greatly reduce my ability to guarantee that you and your son won't be harmed.”

  I thought about his offer. Honestly, it was a good one. If I kept down the road I was on, chances were good that I could get killed. I'd already placed Hunter in the line of fire since LeDuc knew where I lived. Donald and Teagan Summers had paid the price for my persistence already. How much more blood did I want to have on my hands? I could do what he said and leave now. That was the only way to guarantee that Hunter and I would be safe.

  The cost of our safety, however, would come at a great many more lives. LeDuc and his band of thugs would be free to continue to terrorize the families of Paint Rock. Sal would go away for two murders he didn't commit and the Garcias would never know what happened to their son. Hunter and I would be safe, though, and far away from there. We wouldn't have to think about the mess in Paint Rock ever again and I could be free of the restraints BSI put on me. I could live a normal life. That was, until Hunter started to change.

  LeDuc pulled into my driveway and put his car in park. “Here we are,” he said. “Safely delivered, as promised. Now, I have your word that you'll be out by tomorrow, yes?”

  I narrowed my eyes at LeDuc. “I know what you are,” I lied. “And I know what you did. I'm not leaving Paint Rock until one of us is dead.”

  Andre's smile turned into a scowl. He didn't move, but the locks clicked closed and his eyes took on that same, cool glow I'd seen when he froze up the truck. “Oh,” said LeDuc and then gave a low laugh that vibrated the glass in the windows. “I don't think you have any idea who or what I am, Agent Black. In fact, what you know about this town and the supernaturals in it couldn't fill a teacup. You're walking on dangerously shaky ground. Take care that your friends and family don't pay the price for your poor footing.”

  The locks on the door clicked open. I pressed the release on my seat belt and pulled on the door handle simultaneously and somehow managed to fall out of the car. LeDuc lifted a hand and the door swung closed of its own accord. I stood and managed a few shaky steps backward before he got the window down. “And I really would appreciate it, agent, if you kept this conversation between us. I find there's nothing more unbecoming of a woman than a wagging tongue.”

  Andre smiled, rolled the window up and tore out of my driveway, his back tires spitting desert sand all over me.

  Initially, I'd resolved to sleep as soon as I got home. I'd been so exhausted before that I had fallen asleep while driving, something I almost never do. After my encounter with LeDuc, there was no way I could sleep. I had work to do.

  I tried again to dig up something on LeDuc but failed miserably so I decided to call the station and see if Quincy had made any progress with the footage and the Jag's plates. I tried the station but got a busy signal. I was turning my cell phone over in my hands, debating whether to call Tindall, when my phone rang. “I guess my mind's made up,” I said frowning down at Chanter's number dancing across the screen. “Black.”

  “You need to be here,” Chanter said shortly. There was some kind of noise in the background. Whatever it was, it was loud enough that I could barely hear him.

  “Yeah, about that. See, there was a bit of a problem with the truck and I can't—”


  “Ed will meet you in the Prius,” Chanter said impatiently. “If you have anything that belonged to the boy's father, I suggest you bring it.”

  I started to ask if Hunter was okay but the line went dead before I could get the words out. If you have to ask, then you already know the answer, I thought and dialed Tindall's cell. It went straight to his voice mail which meant he either had the damn thing off or the bastard was screening his calls. “Detective, Black here. I just wanted to check in, see how Sal was doing in lockup and to check on that footage Quincy's looking over for me. I'm chasing another lead and can't get down there but, when you have a second, ring me back. I have another suspect but I don't want you to move on him, not yet. Not until we know where the kids are.”

  I hung up and tore through the house looking for something, anything of Alex's I'd kept. After he died, I sold almost everything he owned to pay for the funeral since we didn't have any life insurance and I still had to take out a personal loan. The only thing I'd kept was the simple, gold wedding band. I should have sold it years ago. It was just a thing, but it was a thing that was his. It was all I had. I finally found it in the bottom of a shoe box and tucked it into my pocket.

  Outside, someone hit a car horn. I pulled apart the blinds just in time to see a blue Prius roll into my driveway. The front passenger side door opened and Ed stepped out. Daphne remained behind the wheel, leaving the car running.

  Ed blinked twice at me when I opened the door before he knocked. “What’s happening?”

  Ed's eyebrows drew up. “I think you'd better see for yourself. Chanter told me not to get you upset.”

  “I'm already upset,” I grumbled and went out, locking the door behind me. I took the front seat and crossed my arms. “If anything happens to my son...”

  “You're sitting in a car with two werewolves,” said Daphne as Ed climbed in. “If I were you, I'd think twice before threatening their alpha.” She turned to me. “If you'd known the truth about your late husband, would you have loved him?”

  “Excuse me?” Daphne didn't answer me. She just turned back to the wheel. “That's a damn personal question.”

  “It's hard to love something you're afraid of,” she said quietly. “I just want you to understand before you see it. Whoever said love conquers all was full of crap. There are places even a mother's love doesn't go. I need to know before I take you out there how you really feel about us. I've seen one too many mothers, fathers and brothers turn and run, never to be heard from again. Make no mistake, Ms. Black. Harsh words cut deeper than the sharpest knife. I won't let you hurt him.”

  My mouth fell open. How could she insinuate that I would ever say or do anything to hurt my own son? But I didn't know what I was walking into, what I would see. And I didn't know if any shred of Hunter would still be left once he Changed. Even if he regained his human form, it was entirely possible that he would want nothing more to do with me or BSI. It wouldn't be the first time such a thing had happened. I didn't want him to have to choose between who he was and who I wanted him to be.

  I settled further into my seat and stared straight ahead. “Maybe love isn't blind,” I said. “But it is stupid. Alex was a hard person to love. The way I see it, if I could look past all the boozing, fighting and random disappearing acts he'd pull, what's a little fur on the full moon? So long as Hunter keeps his grades up and doesn't get into fights with anyone who doesn't deserve it, my biggest problem with him is going to be getting him to put the toilet seat down and do his homework.”

  Daphne cracked a smile. “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” she said and hit the gas.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A half hour later, we pulled into Chanter's driveway and I was out of the car before it even came to a full stop. Shauna, who was sitting on the front porch, stood when I came barreling up the stairs and stepped between me and the door. She had scratches on her cheek that had yet to see any cleaning or a bandage and her head was a mess of sweat and dark stains. Normally, I would have yelled at her to get out of my way but the condition she was in... It made me think something terrible had happened there.

  “How is he?” I asked. I just wished I knew what I was asking about.

  The tight muscles in her shoulders relaxed a little when she realized I wasn't there to pick a fight. She nodded but opened the door and said, “I'll take you to Chanter.”

  We went through the house and into the big open backyard. Shauna went to a small storage building, leafing through a set of keys on the way. “I'll warn you,” she started, stopping in front of the building. “Neither of them is going to be in a good mood. Tread lightly. Don't assume any position or title of yours is going to stop them from ripping your throat out if you get smart.” I narrowed my eyes and frowned at her. She looked up and shrugged. “Just saying. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have even called you. Sal should be here. Not you.”

  “I'm his mother.”

  “See if that makes a difference on the other side of this door.” Shauna unlocked the padlock over the doors and stood off to the side, gesturing for me to open them. I gave her a doubtful look but she didn't budge.

  The metal handle of the door was oddly cool in my fingers, especially given that it was a hundred-degree day outside. It should have been burning hot. The door creaked loudly as I swung it open. Inside, I found the contents of a typical shed: hoses, tools, a workbench, gardening shears. Gardening shears? I thought and stepped inside. We're in the desert. What possible use could anyone have for gardening shears out here? On the workbench, I found sawdust and remnants of cut wood right alongside metal shavings and a few stone arrowheads. As I picked up one of the arrowheads, the shed door swung closed, leaving me in darkness.

  “Very funny,” I growled and stumbled back toward the door. “Lead me to an empty shed and lock me in. I bet you think that's hilarious.” I felt the door, searching for an inside handle and found it bare. A small panic worked through me as I considered why a bunch of werewolves would want to lock me in a shed. I mean, not like I'd done anything to piss them off. I swallowed the panic, took a deep breath and kicked the door.

  Kicking down a door in real life didn’t work as well as it did in the movies. It always took more than one kick for me anyways. If the door was solid wood in a good frame like the shed door was, it usually took a good long time. I was more likely to break my foot or kick a hole in the door before the whole door went down. Luckily, I didn't have to do either. The third time I went to slam my shoe against them, both doors unbolted and unlocked of their own accord and I went falling through them, landing in two inches of snow.

  It took me a moment to process what the cold, wet white stuff was while I laid in it. I rolled over onto my back, trying to rub some feeling back into my nose. “There's no snow in the desert.”

  “An astute observation,” Chanter's voice echoed sharp and deep off the shed walls and tree limbs hanging over my head.

  The snow crunched as I sat up and looked around. At a small fire several yards away sat the man himself in nothing but a pair of ripped up old blue jeans, a lit cigarette in his hand.

  I pushed myself up and meandered slowly toward him. As I walked, I sent out some magickal feelers, trying to determine exactly where we were. The place looked familiar, about as familiar as any forested area in the winter, I suppose. It held a familiar air to it, though, an energy that felt both right and wrong all at the same time. Imagine physically walking through an episode of déjà vu just this side of the Twilight Zone with electromagnets strapped to your back. I was sure I'd been there before though I had no memory of ever setting foot inside of a snow covered forest at night. The energy in that forest was astounding, almost electric. Power floated like a fog, free for the taking. The magick someone could work in here would be among the most powerful and frightening I had ever seen. And yet, Chanter had used it to make fire. I could see the dim halo of power shimmering around the flames as I approached, signaling for all who cared to look that they were as natural as T
eflon.

  I sat down on a tree trunk next to Chanter and rubbed my hands over my arms. “I give up. Where are we?”

  “When we last spoke, you asked me about Ways.” Chanter lifted the cigarette, took a long drag and let the smoke out through his nose before continuing. “I was not entirely truthful with you.”

  I looked around me, trying to contain my lack of amazement. I'd expected Ways to be much more grandiose, full of swirling lights and rainbows or what not. This was just a big, quiet forest. It was peaceful, really. “We're in one now?”

  “Part of one.”

  “So, you're telling me there's a forest in my kitchen cabinet?”

  Chanter laughed. “A forest, an ocean, a desert or a swamp... There's no way to know without going through. Some are hospitable and you may pass through without trouble. Others... Simply opening them will draw the attention of those who should never be disturbed.”

  I watched Chanter smoke for a moment and listened to the fire crackle. The forest was so quiet that I could hear the tobacco burn. “Where's Hunter? What happened?”

  “All in good time. There's no rush. This is a realm of memories and spirits. Time does not touch this plane the same way it does our own.” Chanter held his cigarette out to me.

  I frowned. “I don't smoke.”

  He lowered it and then turned to fish out a liter of Jack Daniel's that he took a swig of before offering it to me. “If you tell me you don't drink, I won't believe you.”

  I took the bottle, looking from it to him. “Where is my son?”

  Chanter frowned and turned his attention back to the fire in front of him and the cigarette in his hand. “When I asked you to tell me about the boy's father, you avoided my question. It's a difficult thing, to lose a parent. That loss is even worse when that parent took life or death secrets with him to the grave.”