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

by E. A. Copen

  Whatever that creature was, it was feeding off Mia, and Mia was evading it by letting her conscious spirit leave her body. So far, my theory would have been controversial to other BSI agents. BSI didn’t like for agents to talk about spirits, souls, and so on. Ghosts existed, but everyone agreed they were just residual energy left behind, the imprint of emotion and magick combined in a space. That only explained about seventy percent of so-called hauntings. The last thirty percent were dubbed IREs. Intelligent residual energies. I’d call that a disembodied soul. IREs hung around for unfinished business. They couldn’t be killed and communicating with them was even more difficult. The important thing about IREs was that they remained for a reason. Being goal oriented usually made them simpler to deal with. Usually, if you could find a way to help them achieve their purpose, they left on their own. I had never heard of an IRE that fed on people, though.

  Demons could feed on people, but I didn’t get the demon vibe from the thing I saw in Mia’s room. Scary, yes, but not demonic. Demons tended to do a lot more damage over longer periods of time. They were a long fuse on a big Earth-shattering ka-boom. There were instances where the possessed went downhill quickly, but this thing didn’t have the power that would have been necessary to do that.

  What was it, then?

  Maybe I was looking at it wrong. Rather than trying to match the symptoms to the creature, I could look at the origin and follow the progression. It hadn’t happened at the hospital. That meant I needed to see the place where Marcus had been keeping Mia before the hospital. I made a note to remember to ask Marcus about it at dinner. In the meantime, the best thing I could do was go and check in on Mia and get some more information from her doctors. The medical jargon wouldn’t mean anything to me, but if I could establish a timeline and a definite progression of symptoms, I could narrow down my list of possible suspects much more easily.

  I paused and drummed my fingers on the desk. While I was at the hospital, I might be able to corner Chanter and get some information out of him, too. Just because Sal didn’t want to talk to me didn’t mean I couldn’t find out what they were up to. At the very least, Chanter had already told me more than Sal. And I knew Chanter wouldn’t be as hot headed or let his feelings for me cloud his judgement. After a lengthy pause for thought, I decided and grabbed my keys on the way out. There was no sense in leaving any stones unturned.

  ~

  Tracking down Chanter was easier said than done. The hospital was huge and, unless you’re family, you can’t just walk up to an information desk and demand to know where a patient was. Unless you had a handy BSI badge, that is. I wasn’t supposed to use it for that, but flash a badge in front of people and they tend to do whatever you ask without question. Humans did, anyway. Humans are conditioned to obey authority figures. It’s ingrained in our culture and our very way of life. That’s less true when it comes to werewolves.

  The oncology wing was a busy place divided into subsections and specialists that were further divided in ways I couldn’t hope to understand. Chanter had come in for another PET scan. I knew because I’d heard Sal complaining about how much convincing it would take to get him to go. Imaging was a restricted area, so I couldn’t just walk back there, not even with my badge. I checked in the waiting room and didn’t see Sal. I thought maybe I’d missed them.

  “What are you doing here, girl?”

  I turned around and saw familiar brown eyes and a long, wrinkled and tired face staring back at me. Chanter wore a plain white shirt and his King’s vest, on it the patch reading VP and several others. A three-legged cane kept him upright. The oxygen tank he hauled around on his hip kept him breathing. I gave a tight smile and put my arms around him. He patted my back lightly.

  “Where’s your escort?” I asked.

  “Saloso is no fonder of hospitals than I am. It’s the smell, I think. I sent him out before he got any more agitated than he already was.” Chanter looked me up and down, his forehead wrinkling. “You are wearing a new kind of worry in your face. Come. Tell me about it.”

  Chanter offered me an elbow. I smiled and slid my arm in his. I let him set the pace, even though I had to fight to stay slow enough for him. I waited until we were out of the waiting room and back in the hustle and bustle of the hall to say anything else. “Did you get your PET scan, Chanter?”

  “Thunder doesn’t need to see lightning to know a storm is coming, girl. I’m not long for this world, and I don’t need some educated, white yuppie to tell me that. My chances of waking up tomorrow are still better than yours if you don’t tell me what’s on your mind.”

  We approached a plastic bench. It had one of those donor plaques on the wall behind it, advertising that it was made from recycled plastic bottles in memory of someone who’d probably paid a lot of money to have their name on a bench. A nurse bustled by pushing a wheelchair carrying a tired, thin looking girl in her early teens. She stared at the floor, her eyes glazed from whatever was running in her IV.

  Chanter stepped in the way of the wheelchair after signaling for me to wait. “How are you, Alicia?” he asked.

  The nurse answered in the girl’s stead. “Making progress, aren’t we?” Her face stretched into an optimistic grin.

  The little girl, Alicia, stared blankly ahead until Chanter lowered his hand on top of her arm. I leaned forward as the familiar buzz of magick filled the air, unseen and unheard by all except for Chanter and I. Alicia blinked fast, as if she were waking from a long sleep, and lifted her gaze to Chanter. A hesitant smile of recognition crossed her pale lips.

  Chanter returned a warm smile of his own. “Chin up, child. Half the battle is attitude. You’re too young to look so grim.” He winked at her before he stepped aside.

  “What did you do?” I asked him, watching the nurse roll the patient down the hallway.

  “What I could.” Chanter’s voice was even more strained. “Dying is not the worst part of cancer. Sometimes, living is just as bad. The young bear the pain well, but their spirits are far more fragile.” Chanter hobbled over to stand next to the bench. He winced and his wheeze was even more audible now than it had been before. “Now, this business of yours. Let me guess. Matters of the heart?”

  “Is it so obvious?”

  “Child, I am old, not blind. I do remember what it feels like to be lost in love. And considering the boy’s attitude this morning, and the worried weight you’re carrying in your forehead and shoulders, you two might as well have worn matching t-shirts. Now, tell me which thing it is the two of you have decided to quarrel over first.”

  “First?” I sighed and frowned “I don’t know how many more of these I can handle.”

  Chanter chuckled and then coughed, but made a quick recovery. Even though he worked for every breath, Chanter’s eyes sparkled with the same joyous energy he carried wherever he went. “Welcome to the family. If there’s one thing someone should have warned you about up front when it comes to my nephew, it’s his ability to argue. Saloso invests himself completely in all that he does. Lets himself get lost in things, believing if he can just throw enough of himself at it, it will work out exactly as he’d like. When it doesn’t, he grows quickly frustrated.”

  I turned away from Chanter and studied the arm of the bench. “I need to know about the Kings, Chanter. I can’t be left in the dark. It’s just not in me. I need to know that I’m not going to be used to clean things up for the club. I can’t do that.”

  “Hmm.” Chanter drew his lips into a thin line. With most people, when they make a non-committal noise like that, it’s difficult to interpret. Over the months I’d gotten to know Chanter, I’d learned that response was more of an “A-ha!”

  He hobbled to the other side of the bench and sat down with a grunt, leaning forward on his cane. “When we were young, my mother forbade my sister to go to a school dance with a white boy. No matter how much she stomped and cried, she would not budge. On the night of the dance, my sister snuck out the window and went anyway. She returned very
late in tears. Even though she had disobeyed, my mother spent the night consoling her daughter and listening to the tale of how the boy had danced with other girls and ignored her. That was the kind of person my mother was. It was also the kind of person my sister was, to believe every man she loved cared as much about her. In many ways, that’s how she died, loving the wrong man too much for too long. Saloso knows this was his mother’s fate, that she never survived his father’s leaving. Consider that.”

  He cleared his throat and continued, “But the night my sister snuck out, as she lay in mother’s lap, deep in tears while my mother brushed her hair, my sister asked an important question. ‘Mamma,’ she asked, ‘how did you know it would be so bad for me to go?’ To this, my mother, who was the wisest woman on the reservation replied, ‘Daughter, I did not know. I knew only that it could happen.’ My lovely young sister was distraught. ‘Mamma,’ she continued, ‘if you knew this could happen, why did you not tell me?’ And do you know what my wise old mother’s reply was?”

  I shook my head.

  Chanter took in a deep breath and let it out slow. “She said, ‘I did not tell you because you were not ready to listen.’ Being so wise, my mother understood something few of us do until we sit and stare death in the face. While my dear sister would have heard the warning, she would have chosen not to heed it anyway. A fool always believes he is wiser than the wise man, Judah. That’s what makes him a fool.”

  I frowned and crossed my arms. “Are you saying I shouldn’t ask because I’m not ready to hear the truth?”

  Chanter smiled. “I am saying, girl, that today I choose not to be the fool. A wise man knows not to step into a lover’s quarrel.” He laughed at me when I gave him a sour face in response and he patted my hand. “Saloso cares deeply for you. He took a big risk yesterday bringing you out to Diabla’s. Your approval matters. It’s dear to him, even if he can never say it. What the Kings do, it is the greater good. Sometimes, that puts us at odds with the law. That’s not something I can deny. Some spend more time on the other side of that line than others. I can’t tell you more than that.”

  I withdrew my hand from under his. “Can’t or won’t?”

  “My nephew is a good man, Judah. You can trust him, and you can trust Bran. Be wary of the rest.” He coughed. I leaned forward to see if I could do anything, but he just worked his way through the fit before stopping to take a few deep breaths.

  “What should I do? I care about him but I’m not sure I want that kind of complication in my life, Chanter.”

  Chanter closed his eyes and relaxed in the bench. “We all long for the simple life until we find it, girl, and then we wish for exciting times. I will tell you that a life lived in safety is not the one I would choose.”

  “But what do I do about Sal? How can I be sure I’m not being used?”

  Chanter’s hand smacked into the back of my head. It wasn’t the hardest slap I’d ever had, but it stung just the same.

  “Ow,” I complained, rubbing the back of my head. “What was that for?”

  “If Sal were here, he’d break my hand for doing that. The boy would jump in front of a speeding train for you. Like the bull headed, stubborn, half-blind white girl that you are, you’re the only one who can’t see it.” He moved his hand and I flinched. But instead of striking me, he touched my cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You see, pain is not so easily forgotten. Saloso knows what it is like to be dragged through a relationship and discarded. It’s still fresh, like the buzzing pain in the back of your head. Do you want to know how you can be sure? The truth is that you can’t. None of us can. Surety is a luxury, girl. Trust. That’s what you ought to be seeking. If you trust me, if you trust Saloso, you will take us at our word.”

  I started to speak, but he stopped me, putting a finger over my lips.

  “I know it’s hard for you to see, but take it from a dying old man. You’re not ready to listen. When you are, you will know everything.” He stood and straightened his cane. “Now, would you look at the time? I’m over fifteen minutes late for my appointment. Looks like I’ll have to reschedule.” He flashed me a grin and then nodded. “I’ll see you later, Judah. Take care.”

  I sat on the bench for a long time after Chanter left, thinking about what he’d said. Maybe he was right and I just needed to let it go for now. But if Istaqua kept showing up and barging in at all hours, I didn’t know how long I’d be able to handle that. If this was going to go forward, we were going to have to come to an understanding, and Sal would have to apologize.

  Chapter Nine

  Smooth jazz played in the elevator as I rode up to the sixth floor. The air inside was stuffier than it had seemed the night before and it smelled faintly of disinfectant. The door opened, and I stepped into the same hallway as before. This time, a grim-faced and middle-aged member of housekeeping stood in the hallway beside a tall cart carrying brightly colored plastic trays full of half-eaten meals. She pressed her glossy lips together and sighed as she pulled the cart into the service elevator across the hall.

  Through the re-enforced safety glass of the ward’s security doors, I could see half a dozen young people sitting in a circle around a table. One of the orderlies, a dark-complexioned man with glasses, smiled and stood in front of them, scribbling on a piece of poster board propped up on a cheap easel. He was the only one engaged in the activity. The kids looked at him, sure, but their eyes were glazed and far off. One girl sitting in the middle of the group had fading pink hair. She sat with dark circles under her eyes and scratched absent mindedly at fresh pink scars on her wrists. Looking at her reminded me of Mara. A sudden pang of icy regret settled into my chest. I had failed her. I couldn’t let that happen to Mia.

  I pressed the buzzer for entry. There was an audible click as the security doors unlocked. I pulled the door open and stepped into the ward.

  “Didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” said Nurse Uhl from beside the desk.

  “Surprised you’re still here,” I answered and took the sign in clipboard from her.

  “I’m just about done. Eleven to eleven shifts six days a week. Sometimes I envy you nine-to-fivers.” Her voice held a twinge of irritation. Understandable, considering she’d already been up all night and had to deal with me once before. I could have told her my hours were much more irregular than she thought, but that would have done nothing but irritate her further. I was sure she already didn’t much care for me.

  I signed my name in big, clear letters and handed the clipboard back to her. She frowned at it and scribbled my name—spelled correctly this time—onto another visitor badge that I affixed to my chest. “You know anything at all about Mia? Any flickering lights since she came up here? Strange smells? Unusual sounds?”

  She stuck out her bottom lip and leaned against the desk. “You’re asking me if she’s haunted.”

  “I saw something last night that might suggest that as a possibility, yes.”

  “I haven’t seen anything,” Nurse Uhl said with a shrug. “But I don’t spend a lot of time over there. Only once an hour. I don’t like the way that woman looks at me.”

  I assumed by “that woman” she meant Zoe.

  The nurse leaned in closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Between you and me, the whole situation’s fishy. Only a handful of the staff has access to that room since Mr. Kelley changed the locks. He might be padding my check to look the other way when suits like you come in here, but I know when something’s up. Is that girl some kind of extra freaky supernatural weirdo? Maybe something new?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not at liberty to say. The bureau would appreciate it if you didn’t posit your theories to anyone else. For your sake.”

  I don’t play the mysterious conspiracy fed card very often. I couldn’t follow through on any of the threats I made, but Marcus would, so my warning was as protective as it was preventative. If she talked, Marcus would silence her, probably permanently.

  Nurse Uhl seemed unfazed by t
he threat. She pushed back away from the counter and lifted her purse over her shoulder. “Well, anyway, good luck with whatever it is you’re investigating.” She slid past me, walked to the door, and swiped her badge through the reader on her way out.

  The group meeting in the common area gave me disinterested glances as I walked to Pod Four. I made sure not to make eye contact with the orderly working with them, even though I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. Eye contact encouraged him to talk to me, and he might stop me with more questions. Walk anywhere with purpose and almost no one questions your presence. It’s something the world’s top criminals know. Mia’s door was closed and locked. I knocked on the door and it opened. Doctor Han stepped aside and offered a small bow in the form of a greeting.

  “It’s good to see you again, Agent Black.”

  Han’s soft-spoken and polite demeanor may have fooled everyone else, but something about him didn’t sit right with me. Every time he spoke, the skin on my arms prickled, and something set off the early warning signals in my brain. I’m not sure what made me inherently distrust him. Maybe it was the fact that he was working for Marcus, or his connection to Andre LeDuc. Either way, I didn’t buy the kindly old doctor routine.

  I scanned the room and found Zoe’s chair empty. “Where’s Zoe?”

  “Stepped out for a bite.” The corner of Han’s mouth turned up ever so slightly and his eyes sparkled. I wondered if that was his version of a joke.

  “I hope for her sake there aren’t any bodies for me to find,” I said. “I’m sure you’re aware of her condition.”

  “Her existence is not a condition.” Han closed the door and the lock engaged with a click. “If anything, I consider her a curiosity that warrants further study.”

  “Does that explain your interest in Mia as well?”

  Han pressed his lips together and adjusted his glasses. The corners of his eyes wrinkled. “I am, of course, bound by duty to keep her best interests in mind. However, based only on what little study I have been able to do concerning her unique genetic code, she does present a great opportunity to the field of genetic science. Doctor LeDuc may have been a madman at the end, but he was a leading genius in his field for a very long time before that.”