Guilty by Association (Judah Black Novels)

by E. A. Copen

  “Who is what?” Chanter asked impatiently.

  “Never mind. I'll call you back.” I hung up.

  When Reed finished with one section of the bite, he repeated the process, prayer and all. I didn't speak. It seemed rude, first of all, to interrupt a priest in prayer. More than that, though, I was busy having a good look at the father's aura. I don't know why I didn't look the first time or why I assumed a priest in a place like Paint Rock would be normal. I guess I just assumed that a man of God wouldn't be anything scary. Well, I was wrong. Father Reed's aura was thick and rich with five or six layers of bright colors, buzzing, flexing and flowing back on itself like a lake full of raindrop ripples. I'd never seen anything like it. It was beautiful.

  When he finished, he leaned back and let the sword fall loosely from his fingers. I went to get bandages. He was asleep when I came back and didn't stir for most of the time I spent cleaning and bandaging him. Reed had done a pretty decent job cauterizing his shoulder wound from what I could see. Again, though, I'm no doctor.

  His eyes fluttered back open when I nudged the sword with my foot, moving it aside so I could fix a bandage on his leg. “Can we converse in English now or would you rather stay in Latin?” I asked, dipping into my own Latin reservoir. Oddly, it felt good to talk to someone else who understood it.

  “English. I'm too tired to conjugate.” He started to laugh at his own joke and then winced. “Sorry about the cupboard.”

  “How'd you get yourself stuffed in there anyway?” I finished wrapping my last bit of gauze around a cut on his other leg before pulling an afghan down to throw over him and sitting in the old rocking chair next to him.

  “I knew there was a Way that led here,” he grumbled, sounding more irritated than anything. “They must have remodeled the kitchen since it was put in. Otherwise, it's one of the Fae Ways. Only one of them would be small enough to fit in there comfortably.”

  “A Way?”

  He nodded. “You recall me asking about strange happenings in your home?” I said that I did. “The last tenants were so unnerved by them that they asked me to perform a blessing. It was during that blessing that I discovered that this house had a gateway, a Way. I didn't know precisely where it was but I was sure it was here. Apparently, it's in your kitchen cupboard.”

  I blinked. “Hold that thought,” I said and went to my fridge to fetch the bottle of bourbon Sal and I had been sipping from earlier. Some things are just a little easier to swallow with a good bourbon. The idea that there might be an exit off the magick shortcut highway in my kitchen was one of those things. I stood in the kitchen for a while, staring at the coffee grounds covered floor, wondering at the implications of having a Way here.

  In theory, a Way functioned as a sort of fast travel system, allowing someone to walk through a door in New York and wind up somewhere in Moscow in the blink of an eye. They covered both time and space without taking up any of either. Magick wormholes, I guess you'd say. But they didn't exist. Magick theory only said they could exist. No one had ever proven that they actually did. I certainly hadn't expected to find one lurking in my kitchen.

  What if there were more Ways in Paint Rock, scattered all over? What if that's how the killer was moving around? A cold, sick feeling settled in the bottom of my stomach as I realized that was the only explanation that made sense. A Way would be the only thing that would allow someone to come in behind even the best wards and get out without disturbing anyone. “Holy Hell,” I whispered and took another drink..

  I went back into the living room, sat down in the rocker and started questioning him as if I'd never left. “Who or what took a bite out of your shoulder?”

  He careened his neck as if trying to get a better look at the injury. “Well, it wasn't a vampire. At least, I don't think it was a vampire.” I waited for him to elaborate. He sighed. “When I came to unlock the church this morning, they were waiting for me.”

  “Who?”

  “Five or six thugs. I recognized a few of them from around. I'd be better at giving you faces than names. A pair of vampires, a packless werewolf and one of the ogre-type fae. They indicated that they wanted a fight. So...” He gestured to the sword on the floor. “I obliged.”

  “What kind of priest slays vampires and werewolves with a sword?”

  He smiled. Somehow, Reed's warm, inviting smile gave me chills. “He said, 'Blessed are the peacemakers,' Agent Black. Not blessed are the helpless who take up no arms. There's a long, well documented history of God-fearing men doing battle with the forces of evil. Some do it with scripture. I prefer a more liberal interpretation.”

  “Father,” I said, leaning forward. “No more secrets. People are dying. You could have died. In the interest of saving lives, you need to tell me everything you know.”

  He shifted stiffly, which is about as good as a man in his condition could be expected to shift. “Elias wasn't what you would call a religious man. He and the church didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things. Still, faith runs deep. He was raised in a good catholic family and taught to seek the advice of a priest when things looked dark. I counseled him about some of his dealings with his brother. They had a...stressful relationship.”

  “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 just 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 in order 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 just a little unrest. There are powerful figures here, people that wouldn't like it if I'd just 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 just 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 just 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 started to try and push 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 then 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 are a subtype of fae you don't see often, mostly because they're almost extinct. They employ 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're basically what you'd get if you crossed the two. The one thing hobgoblins are well known for in BSI is their love of practical jokes. By practical jokes, I don't mean hand buzzers and whoopee cushions. 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've got a thing for fire. Fire plus twisted sense of humor doesn't often turn out well for the butt of the joke. BSI employs a few on their demolition squad. Don't ask me why BSI needs 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.”