The Fledgling: A Novella (Mind Sweeper Series Book 2)
Page 8
Jean Luc peeled the tablecloth off the corpse he’d stuffed in the corner during my shtick with the patrons. Even though moving the body had meant disturbing evidence, we couldn’t very well keep a dead vamp—especially a headless dead vamp—lying around when minds had to be scrubbed and altered to believe nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Humans don’t do well with different. So our team’s job? Clean up the mess.
I studied our potential publicity nightmare—the headless body in a rumpled suit. Dead vamps always surprised me. Every movie I’d ever seen showed the vamp disintegrating. Stab him in the heart, instant ash cloud. Chop off his head, get out the dust vac. It wasn’t until I met Jean Luc that I learned those movies were bunk. And since he’d been a vampire for the past four hundred years, he was the foremost authority in my book.
“What do you think happened?” I asked.
Jean Luc grinned slowly. “Well, Kyle, I would say he was decapitated.”
I frowned at him. “Thanks, Dr. Obvious. I meant why the supernatural smackdown in the middle of the happy hour and hot-wings crowd?”
He shook his head. “Supernaturals are not normally this careless. There must be a compelling reason why this happened when it did.”
“Have you ever seen an angel before?”
“Yes, but never one that revealed himself to humans this blatantly. Nicholas will be watching us closely until we figure this out.”
I bristled. “Nicholas can chill. If he’s worried we’re not doing our jobs, he can come here and supervise us himself. Did you find the vamp’s head?”
“No.”
I didn’t want to think about why someone would take it. “Where’s Misha?”
“Talking to our supernatural witness in the back room.”
Since the place had been busy, odds were good at least one supe would be in the crowd, and we had hit pay dirt. There’d been a shifter working as a bartender.
“Hopefully, we can get a credible story from him.”
I walked through the kitchen door. It was quarter-wing night and the sweet-smoky smell of barbeque sauce hit my nose. My stomach growled like a pissed-off Haltrap demon. Definitely a crime scene faux pas, perusing a dead body one second and drooling over mesquite the next.
I hurried through the kitchen and into the storage area. Misha glanced up when I pushed open the door and then turned back to the bartender, who was cowering nervously in a chair.
The pencil-thin shifter bounced his leg so hard his teeth were chattering. He pushed his dark hair off his forehead in a jerky motion, which made me wonder what type of animal he could change into—a monkey? One of those yappy little Chihuahuas? Of course, having Misha breathing down his neck didn’t help matters.
Six-foot-six and two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle, Misha looked like a Browns linebacker. With short, blond hair and ice-blue eyes, he was intimidating when he smiled and terrifying when he scowled. The little guy didn’t stand a chance. I stayed close to the door, not wanting to interrupt the interrogation.
Misha’s bass voice, laced with a thick Russian accent, rippled across the room. “So what happened?”
“The vampire came into the bar first and was acting weird.”
“Weird how?” Misha scrubbed his perpetual five o’clock shadow.
“You know vamps, normally nothing fazes them. This guy was actually nervous. He kept looking over his shoulder. Even asked me if there was a back way out. Then the demon came ripping through the front door, and the vamp took off at a dead run.”
“What kind of demon was it?”
The shifter paused for a second before answering. “He wasn’t a Shamat like you.”
Misha stiffened. He did a good job of suppressing his demon side when he was out in public, but a shifter’s nose could sniff out anything. “Then what kind was he?”
“I couldn’t get a good whiff of him at first. It wasn’t until later, when the angel got here, that he transitioned into his demon form—purple skin and yellow eyes. Then I knew he was a Pavel.”
I gasped like a little girl. I couldn’t help myself. Demons didn’t show their true selves in public, ever. And a Pavel demon? Even by supe standards they were badasses.
Misha scowled at me before returning to his questions. “What happened before the angel arrived?”
“The demon tackled the vamp. The vamp bared his fangs and sank them into the demon’s arm, and the normals wigged out. After a couple more seconds, the room started to vibrate. My hair stood on end, and all the humans froze. That’s when the angel appeared. Then it got really weird.”
Misha’s gaze held mine for a second. His left eyebrow rose as if saying How in the hell could it get any weirder? He composed his face. “Go on.”
“Like I said, the angel showed up, and the demon changed and stood between the angel and the vamp like he was protecting him.”
Misha frowned. “So you’re telling me the demon, who had just been fighting the vampire, was now protecting him from the angel?”
The shifter shrugged. “Hey, I know it sounds crazy. I’m just telling you what I saw. The angel and demon circled each other. At first they seemed pretty well matched, until the angel pulled out a sword. The vamp tried to make a run for it, but before he got to the door, he was dead.” The shifter gulped and fidgeted in his seat again.
Misha prompted him to explain. “Who killed him?”
“The angel.”
I stepped forward, interrupting. “What?!”
“You heard me.” He glanced up toward the ceiling, his voice lowering to a frantic whisper. “The angel killed him.”
Misha continued unperturbed. “What happened to the demon and the head?”
“The demon ran out the back door, and the angel followed him. I don’t know what the hell happened to the vamp’s head.”
I stood still, even though my nerves were firing off warnings to find the nearest exit. An angel decapitated a vamp… What the hell was going on? Angels rarely showed themselves, and an angel killing another supe in front of witnesses was unheard of.
The shifter gaped as if seeing me for the first time. His nose wrinkled for a second as he tried to sniff out what I was. After another second, his eyes widened.
“You’re that freaky human with powers. The Mind Sweeper. Kyle something…Kyle McKinley, right? You need to scrub my brain. Now!”
My fists clenched. You’d think I would have gotten used to being called a freak, but each time was like another dose of salt in a festering wound. “Why should I?”
“How long do you think I’ll live after what I saw? If you scrub my brain,”—he looked up at the ceiling again—“they’ll know I can’t remember and leave me alone. Please.”
“You don’t know anything else?” Misha interrupted.
“I swear. I told you everything.”
Misha nodded, and I stepped forward cautiously. The shifter was skittish as a colt, so I placed my hand on his damp shoulder and pushed calming thoughts toward him. Scrubbing supes was not easy. Some didn’t respond to me. I closed my eyes.
I pictured the fight he’d described and changed it in my mind. I replaced the vamp’s image with a drunken fraternity boy. The glowing-eyed demon morphed into a leather-clad biker and the angel turned into a cop. Warmth prickled along my forehead, and I reached mentally for his consciousness, easing the new images into his agitated kaleidoscope of a brain.
His shifter senses resisted my intrusion, so I backed off, leaving the new memories hanging in the ether between us. After a couple of seconds, his brain calmed down, and the energies swirled in a fixed pattern instead of bouncing around haphazardly. I tried merging with him again. A yellow haze blinded me, and for the briefest of moments, I lost myself in the connection. Almost as quickly, I severed the link, my thoughts snapping back into my brain like a taut rubber band. My vision cleared, and the shifter’s scared expression relaxed. The transfer of new memories was complete.
Misha and I walked out of the room toward the front
of the bar. Both Jean Luc and the body were gone, but I wouldn’t have to worry about erasing anyone else’s memories. Jean Luc would have avoided witnesses by using his vampire speed to load the body into the van. Misha strolled out the front of the bar and opened the van door. “Jean Luc’s not here.”
I went in search of him behind the building. Jean Luc stood in the middle of the alley with his arms outstretched and his head thrown back, concentrating. Not a muscle twitched. I held my breath, hoping my presence didn’t disturb him, and watched him silently.
Normally, I wouldn’t have used the word beautiful to describe a male, but in Jean Luc’s case it was more than appropriate. With his dark brown eyes and long, black hair tied back with a leather strap, he reminded me of a sexy pirate with fangs. Women had a tendency to drive their cars off the road when they saw him on the sidewalk. Somehow, I’d managed to avoid succumbing to his charms.
After a few moments, he dropped his arms. “I do not sense anything. They did not continue the fight here.”
I rolled my eyes. “Jean Luc, you’ve been speaking English for over a century. Don’t you think it’s time to embrace contractions? What about a slang word here or there?”
His eyes narrowed. “When you learn the seven languages I speak, I will consider it.”
I bowed. “Touché.”
We spent a few more minutes checking the alley to make sure no evidence was left behind. I didn’t expect to find the angel’s bloody sword thrown in the dumpster, but it pays to be thorough. When we returned to our van, we found Misha sitting in the back, scanning surveillance equipment worthy of the FBI.
“I just did a sweep. There’ve been no other weird reports in the city.”
Who would have thought Cleveland, Ohio, would be a hotbed of supes? Maybe the lake attracted them, or the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Either way, it kept us hopping.
Jean Luc chose to drive, as always, and pulled away from the curb, or rather screeched away. He drove like a vamp possessed, but his reflexes hadn’t failed him in four hundred years, which I constantly reminded myself about every time he took a corner too fast.
Misha smirked at me as if reading my thoughts. He could be a smug bastard.
Frustration bubbled to the surface and burst from my mouth. “What are you grinning about? All hell’s breaking loose.”
“Really, little one, you can be terribly melodramatic,” Misha answered in a condescending tone, which didn’t sit well with me.
“Excuse me? You don’t find it somewhat ominous that an angel descended from heaven and killed a vampire in front of human witnesses?”
“You’ve been sucked into the hype, my dear. Angels are not babies with wings. They’ve been alive for millennia. For every artistic rendering of fat cherubs, there are just as many angels depicted with swords. Many are soldiers.”
I needed some backup. “Jean Luc?”
“Misha is right. Angels are soldiers, and soldiers do what they are ordered to do.”
My mouth opened like a fish chasing a worm. “You don’t think”—I poked my finger toward the roof of the van—“He ordered the vamp killed?”
Jean Luc shook his head. “Not directly. Remember, heaven is a hierarchy. Someone lower probably ordered it.”
“Holy crap,” I responded, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans.
“Stop worrying, ma cherie, we will figure it out.”
I must have looked pretty freaked out for Jean Luc to pull out the French. He thought it helped calm me down when I was about to lose it.
It wasn’t working.
Mind Sweeper is available now for Kindle.
Author’s Note
This story takes place in the 1980’s, and I have tried my best to stay true to the decade. If I slipped up on any vernacular or event that did not occur then, please forgive me. Like, totally.
Acknowledgements
I have several talented women to thank for this novella. First, to my cover artist Gabrielle, who was more than patient as I spent hours and hours searching for the “right” Talia. Thanks for putting up with me during this process and creating another awesome cover.
To my poet friend, Ruth, who came up with the wonderful title for this novella. So sweet and to the point.
Also, a special thank you to my editor, Faith, who read this novella and then sent it back to me with ideas to make it even stronger. “Give me more peril,” she said. So that’s what I did.
To my critique partner, Becky, who read the first draft and commented, and I quote, “I think I might have a little bit of red ink left in my pen, but not much.” Your suggested changes were on the money.
And finally to my beta reader extraordinaire, Lara, who read the draft and spouted off suggested changes like a professional editor. When my mouth dropped open, she shrugged and said that reading my manuscripts has made her a better reader.
Thanks to all of you for pushing me to the next level and never letting me settle when it comes to my writing!
AE Jones
Growing up a TV junkie, award winning author AE Jones oftentimes rewrote endings of episodes in her head when she didn’t like the outcome. She immersed herself in sci-fi and soap operas. But when Buffy hit the little screen, she knew her true love was paranormal. Now she spends her nights weaving stories about all variation of supernatural—their angst and their humor. After all, life is about both…whether you sport fangs or not.
AE lives in Ohio with her eclectic family and friends who in no way resemble any characters in her books. Honest. Now her two cats are another story altogether.
AE Jones: The Fledgling
Copyright © 2014 by Amy E Jones
AE Jones: Mind Sweeper (excerpt)
Copyright © 2014 by Amy E Jones
Publisher: Gabby Reads Publishing LLC
Cover Designer: http://coveryourdreams.net/
Editor: http://www.demonfordetails.com/
Digital Formatting: http://www.authorems.com/
ISBN-10: 1941871038
ISBN-13: 978-1-941871-03-4
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, without expressed written permission from the author.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Bonus Scene
Thanks!
Excerpt from MIND SWEEPER
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
About AE Jones
Copyright