Blood on the Moon (The Federal Witch Book 7)

by T S Paul

  Agent Blake nodded. He was a bit overwhelmed by the amount of work these three Agents did. The Sea Scouts didn’t try to do this much this fast! “I’ll get right on it, Agent Blackmore.”

  “Blake, you can call me Agatha when we’re on the bus. Or boss, if you like. Have fun,” I called after him as he stepped off the bus into the warm afternoon sun.

  <<<>>>

  Blake was used to everyone calling him by his last name. It sounded so much better than just plain George. He wasn’t sure what to make of this new team. Working with the Sea Scouts was fun, but it wasn’t a good career move. Position and gurus were what mattered in today's FBI. Who you knew and what you did to get there.

  Climbing into his car, Blake thought about what he’d just seen of Agatha Blackmore, and what he’d heard through the ever-listening FBI grapevine. She was young and super powerful for a Witch of her age. Most of the old-timers in the Bureau either disliked or outright hated what she represented.

  Nobody likes for tradition to die, but she was doing a good job of catching the bad guys. Or at least that is what it said on paper. Blake’s gurus told him, he could do much better if only he were in a position to do so. Magick might be flashy, but it took a real investigator to get the job done. Once he understood the lay of the land, he was sure he could find that one thing that would crack this case open. One spotlight case was all he needed to propel his career forward. If he had to do it by stepping over the bodies of Agatha and her team, he was going to do it.

  Jackson’s city hall was in a shiny new looking building similar to a half moon. The window covered building was very inviting. Straightening his suit and giving every inch of it a quick brush, Blake walked in the front door. His experience in places like this was that the employees liked to talk. He just needed to find the right one.

  Getting in the front door and past the security guard with his sidearm intact was facilitated by flashing his FBI credentials to the right person. No one wants to stop an FBI Agent doing his duty.

  Blake scanned the lobby looking for his victim. The question-and-answer desk was the likely target, but they generally have set answers to everything. Talking to people was their job. His eyes found a directory, and he homed in. This building was huge. Almost every department was represented here. Fire, police, sanitation, planning, city government, and recreation were listed on the sign.

  “Fire and police are too easy. Chances of corruption in those departments are statistically high nationwide. City government falls into that category as well. Sanitation or parks looks like the best bet,” Blake muttered to himself as he went into the men’s room. Pulling out a small grooming kit from an inside coat pocket he primped up his looks a small bit. Time to turn on the charm.

  “Are you crazy? Leave my office now before I call security!” The woman in charge of recreation slammed her door in Blake’s face. This was actually the third one to do something similar. The word was out on him here.

  Blake threw up his hands in disgust. How was he supposed to talk with anyone here if they kept slamming the door? Parks and recreation was a bust. As was sanitation. The manager in there had security on the line as he threw Blake out. Maybe he needed to try a different angle here.

  Sitting on a bench outside one of the lower courtrooms, Blake mapped out his game plan. He thought about ambushing some of the city employees out in the parking garage, but that would be creepy and might lead to his own arrest. Then it came to him. Records. Agent… Chuck? He never did get that guy’s last name. Agent Chuck found ancient records online and showed off his game by displaying them on the big screen. Blake had looked at the supposed records. Just a bunch of faded words on a scratchy old slide. He wanted real and updated information.

  The only elevator down to the County Records department was a freight elevator. Since the city modernized more than ten years ago, all public access to records was online. Only designated businesses and internal employees had access to the office down in the basement. There wasn’t even a phone number listed anymore, but there was a doorway with a name on it. After climbing down three flights of stairs, Blake knocked.

  And then he knocked again. He could see there was a light on through the door and the shadows under the door moved. Using his signet ring he pounded on the door yet again.

  Getting incredibly frustrated and mumbling curses to himself, Blake raised his hand to beat on the door when it suddenly swung open! A very pale and gnarled looking little man glared at him with briefly bright gleaming eyes. “What!”

  Taken aback, Blake stared at the man in shock. As he shook his head gently to clear it all memory of glowing eyes disappeared from his brain.

  The records clerk threw up his hands. “First you disturb my tea, and then you stand there like an idiot when I answer the freaking door. What’s it to be?”

  “Uh, I had… I had some questions,” Blake stuttered out.

  “That is what we have a website for. My idea actually. I got tired of this.” The clerk pointed at Blake. “What do you want to know?”

  Blake blinked a couple of times and pulled out the list he’d made. “Do you know what the ‘Induction’ is?”

  The little man raised an eyebrow and looked up at Blake. “Interesting. You’re either new in town or the dumbest high school graduate we’ve had in years. Judging by that suit, I’d say you were new. Let me see your list.” He thrust a gnarled and bony hand toward Blake.

  Blake really couldn’t stop him from grabbing it, so he let go. The little man read the questions and looked up at the agent over the top of the partially crumpled page.

  “You’ve got some pretty big ones on you, to be asking these questions around here. Trying to get killed or just disappeared? Forget it. You smell like a Fed. What branch are you from?” The little man asked.

  “Sea... I mean the Magical Division of the FBI. I used to be with the Sea Scouts. How did you know I was FBI?” Blake frowned as he looked at the little man.

  “And how is Jack Dalton doing these days? I haven’t seen him in a dog's age.” The little man’s face cracked a smile and looked Blake in the eyes. “Why don’t you step inside and have a nice glass of tea.”

  Blake felt himself being led into the darkened room. He sat at the small table, and the man poured him a glass of tea. “Why don’t you tell me all about yourself George Blake. How is it you came to be in Jackson today?”

  Never even wondering how it was that this strange little man knew his full name, Blake sat down and allowed him to pour him a cup of tea. It was like the air was filled with fog and he could only see and hear a tiny bit of it.

  Clearing his throat, Blake started to speak, and the words just rolled out of him. He discussed his family and what they represent to him. Secrets that Blake thought were lost to the depths of time rolled out of his mouth. More than once, he put his hands over his mouth to try to stem the tide. Who, what, when, and how came out of his mouth over and over and over. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Blake stopped talking. His tongue, teeth, and gums actually ached. It was if he’d been chewing rawhide all day.

  With very wide eyes and parched lips, Blake looked at the little man in horror. “What… What did you do to me?” His voice sounded like gravel.

  “When you poke things in the dark, the dark sometimes pokes back. You entered my home of your own free will. Your new boss sounds very interesting. I may stop and say hello sometime. You can call me Eddie by the way.” Eddie smiled baring two very sharp canine teeth.

  “Just… Just Eddie?” Blake stumbled over the words. It hurt to even open his mouth.

  “Hmm. Most people just call me Eddie. Once upon a time, I went by Edward Moo. You may call me that if you like. This list of yours is very dangerous. But I think you’ve figured that part out. The Moon Pack just want to be left alone. Much like me, they’ve found a small corner of the world and staked a claim to it. By finding me, you leave me with a bit of a quandary. Do I allow you to live?” Eddie mused as he studied Blake’s face.
r />   Blake perked right up and spoke, “What? You want to kill me?”

  “I’m thinking about it. I’m in hiding you see. Nations could fall if I’m exposed to the world. There is a darkness coming. Some might see me as a solution to it or a weapon of last resort. I could be either or neither. The decision of which is mine entirely,” Eddie remarked and poured another cup of tea. Carefully he handed it to Blake.

  “I don’t understand,” Blake remarked.

  Eddie sighed. “I didn’t expect you to. Agent Blackmore might understand me more, but you are what I’ve got. I’ve been in this town longer than it was a town and now I have to leave. Don’t bother trying to remember everything that we just talked about. I’ll find your boss and explain it to her.”

  Blake could only stare at Eddie. As the little man looked into his eyes, he could feel his entire body shutting down.

  “When you wake up Agent Blake, I’ll be gone. Remember this one thing if you forget the rest. Tell Agent Blackmore to watch her back. Darkness is coming,” Eddie smiled again.

  The last thing Blake saw as his eyes closed was a mouthful of teeth heading straight for his neck.

  Chapter 13

  Coach Chris Fox, known as Foxxy, by his former teammates and friends was new to Jackson. He was recruited by the school board to coach the zero to thirty-five, Wolves. The team was ranked last in the state. The coach had played ball all his life ending his college career with an All-State award and a national contract. A drunk driver ruined any chance he had to play professionally. But he’d earned a degree in education along the way and teaching the game was definitely in his wheelhouse.

  Fully immersed in the pre-season, the coach paid very little attention to the world and town around him. Small towns were small towns as far as he was concerned. The Nebraska resident grew up quasi-rural just like so many of his students here in Jackson. He had one season to win or at least place in the state. Both his job and his future relied upon it.

  “Coach, can we take off?” The last stragglers of Friday’s workout asked as they hustled in from the track. Half the team was made up of seniors.

  Chris looked up at the darkening sky and then his watch. “Guys we’ve got about an hour left of practice to go.”

  The boys looked at each other, and all shrugged. Two of the seniors snorted and ignoring the coach, walked past him to their cars. “Didn’t anyone tell you? It’s the Induction this weekend.”

  Coach Fox could only stare at his students as almost half of them left the field without asking. “The what? We need to practice! Just because this week’s game was canceled doesn’t mean we quit now. Why is everyone leaving?”

  “We told you. The Induction. It’s the real reason the game was canceled. My parents told me to get home as fast as possible. We have to all be indoors at nightfall,” Lester Jenkins the school’s best tight end replied.

  The rest of the team members either ran back into the school to change or just climbed into their cars. They left Lester alone with the newcomer coach.

  “What’s the Induction? Are you boys leaving me and joining the military all of a sudden?” Chris watched as the cars in the parking lot sped away.

  “No one told you?” Lester asked the coach.

  “Told me what?” Chris asked.

  Lester shook his head gripping the helmet in his hands. “Oh, man! You’re screwed.”

  A horn sounded, and Lester looked over his shoulder to see a county sheriff’s vehicle waiting. “That’s my dad. I’ve got to go. Coach, trust me on this. Leave all this crap here and go home. Lock your doors and don’t answer them for anything, no matter who they say they are.”

  The horn sounded again. A voice yelled, “Son, get your ass in gear!”

  “Remember what I said, nobody!” Lester yelled as he hot-footed it off the field and across the parking lot. His helmet, pads, and jersey dropping off abandoned along the way.

  “What is the Induction?” Chris muttered to himself as he picked up all the abandoned equipment. His team would have hell to pay next practice. He planned to run them into the ground for leaving him like this. Looking up at the sky he watched as the sun finally plunged behind the trees surrounding the school. This part of Tennessee was much nicer than rural Nebraska.

  The coach was finishing up the job of packing up the training equipment and locking up the school when he heard the first howl. Turning, he looked across the field at the tree line.

  Aaroooo! Aarooo!

  “Those sounded like they came from inside the building,” Chris muttered to himself. He had the door’s padlock in his hand, but instead of locking the door he opened it. “It’s gotta be those damn players screwing with me.”

  The school was dimly lit on the weekends to save power, but Chris knew where the circuit breakers were located. Lester Howe, the principal, made sure Chris knew, that way he would be the one to lock up after games from now on.

  Aaroooo!

  Whoever was making that noise was definitely inside the school! Fumbling at his side, Chris pulled out his cell phone. Popping it open he hit nine one one on the screen. The phone flashed red and turned itself off. No signal. “What the hell?”

  Chris stared at his phone in surprise. This part of Tennessee only had Horizon as the local service provider. He knew because he’d had to dump his old Jogger phone. For some weird reason, they just had towers along all the major north to south interstates. Jackson didn’t have a single one of those towers. Shaking the device he tried again. This time it beeped at him and rebooted its software.

  Shoving it into his pants, Chris stepped into the first classroom he came to. School board rules required that every teacher have both first aid and disaster kits accessible at all times. The school had a first aid and survival class as part of the basic curriculum. At the time he thought that was a bit strange, even for a rural area. A cabinet near the door revealed a king size flashlight and a collapsible baton. He would never hit a student, but it sounded like they might have a big dog with them. Chris was scared of dogs.

  The last of the sun was gone, and the sky was darkening quickly. Inside the school, the only light available was from faintly glowing exit signs. Chris turned on the flashlight ruining any bit of night vision he might have had, but he could at least see down the hall now. Jackson High was built in the 1970s and retained the blocky feel that every horror movie seemed to have. It was very spooky in here at night.

  Aaroooo!

  The dog or whatever it was sounded like it was in the rotunda. Jackson High had six wings that spread out like fingers in opposite directions. In the center was a low area that was used for holiday decorations and small gatherings. The special education wing’s entrance was off to one side of the area. Making sure to keep the beam of light out in front of him, Chris carefully walked toward the center of the school.

  Boom!

  The sound of the door he came in slamming shut caused the coach to swing completely around shining the light in the direction he’d come. As the beam came around, he caught sight of a beautiful woman standing no more than ten feet behind him.

  Chris froze. How did she get there? Swallowing he challenged her. “You shouldn’t be in here. Schools closed.”

  The woman cocked her head and smiled. Her teeth practically sparkling in the beam of light. “We haven’t been introduced have we?”

  Chris blinked. “What?”

  “You’re new here. I completely understand. Nebraska wasn’t it? Have you recovered from your injuries?” She asked.

  “Yes, but you need to get out of here. Someone's let loose a dog or something.” Chris pointed toward the exit.

  Gundi Moon smiled again. “Or something. You look rather fit. I think you will do quite nicely.”

  “Fit? What the hell are you talking about? Who let…” Chris never got to finish his question before someone pulled a hood over his head and gripped him from both sides.

  Chris lifted every day before and after class. Ever since his accident he’d been
on a strenuous exercise regime to build his body back up to professional standards. He might not be able to play again, but he wanted to feel strong again. The hands gripping him were like none he’d ever felt before. Rock hard and gripping, like they were made of steel. As much as he struggled he could still feel his hands being drawn behind him and locked down.

  “The more you struggle, the more it’s going to hurt later. Save your strength. You’ll need it.” Gundi’s voice was so close Chris could feel her hot breath on his covered head.

  “Pack him up. Do not injure him or you will answer to me. Lock the school up and clean up any trace,” Gundi ordered.

  There was a sharp prick on Chris’s shoulder and then nothingness. He had no memory of what happened next.

  <<<>>>

  LJ was restless. The object of his desire hadn’t been at the main house for more than a day while he was locked down with all the other candidates in the basement. It wasn’t that much of a hardship, the lower floors of the estate had all the amenities, but the waiting was killing him.

  “If you have to pace can you do it somewhere else? I feel like I’m at the airport here,” commented the large man who was draped over one of the armchairs.

  Stopping, LJ looked down at the man. “Fly often?”

  The big man straightened himself out and scratched his beard. “All the damn time. I fly for Epsilon Airways as a pilot.”

  “Wow. Those cockpits must be a whole lot bigger than I thought they were,” LJ remarked.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” The big man stood up. He towered over LJ by at least a foot and a half.

  Pausing to respect the man’s size, LJ took a physical step backward. “What I meant to say was… the… cockpits are way too big for you?”

  The big man started laughing and waving a meaty hand, slapped LJ on the back. “I was just funning with you. It’s like sitting in a phone booth and trying to take your shoes off. I don’t even try to take a leak on the plane. That’s what the area behind the baggage trucks is for.”