The NightShade Forensic Files: Under Dark Skies (Book 1)
Page 1
THE NIGHTSHADE FORENSIC FILES: UNDER DARK SKIES
BOOK 1
A.J. SCUDIERE
CONTENTS
Also by A.J. Scudiere
Recommendations
Quotes
Want a free book
Introduction
Locard’s Exchange Principle
Forensics
The Science of Myth
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Introduction
Also by A.J. Scudiere
About the Author
The NightShade Forensic Files: Under Dark Skies
Copyright © 2014 by AJ Scudiere
Published by Griffyn Ink
Griffyn Ink. All rights reserved. No part of this document may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Cover design: Julie Schroeder Designs
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This one is for an amazing group of women.
These remarkable ladies are my beta-readers and the best friends a girl could ask for.
Eli—who has been there in so many different capacities throughout my life. She is my sister and partner in these endeavors, there for every step, the ones that drive us to drink and the ones that lead us to celebrate.
Andrea—who is always on top of everything. She makes sure that we all “Do,” that we walk the walk.
Victoria—who makes sure that we do it with style and warmth. She always has an open home, open kitchen and open heart.
Andrea and Victoria were my friends in college and both welcomed me right back into their lives when I showed up in their town years later. Thank you.
Julie—whom I was lucky enough to sit down next to last year. As we introduced ourselves, I had one of those moments of insight that this person was going to be a great friend. Every week she proves that insight to be right.
I am so amazingly grateful for each of you, every day.
Thank you so much to everyone who helped with this book . . .
From my beta-readers, who are always willing to point out what’s good in a draft and what needs work. I particularly love when you contradict each other!
To my mom, who happily emailed me small-town Texas details.
To Dr. Jennifer Scudiere, who helped with fun pathology things and what Donovan might be able to smell. You are a good cousin!
To my Daddy and to Guy, both of whom are always there, always have my back. Their unending support is just that—unending. Thank you both so much.
Finally, to Wade, for being a great friend and for letting me borrow your likeness for this book. I didn’t make you any more badass than you already are. It’s physics, bitch!
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Look for other novels by A.J. Scudiere.
Available in bookstores, online, and at AJScudiere.com.
The NightShade Forensic Files
Book 1 - Under Dark Skies
Coming Soon: Book 3 - The Atlas Defect
The Sin Trilogy
Vengeance
Retribution
Justice
Resonance
God's Eye
Phoenix
The Shadow Constant
"There are really just 2 types of readers—those who are fans of AJ Scudiere, and those who will be."
-Bill Salina, Reviewer, Amazon
For The Shadow Constant:
"The Shadow Constant by A.J. Scudiere was one of those novels I got wrapped up in quickly and had a hard time putting down."
-Thomas Duff, Reviewer, Amazon
For Phoenix:
"It's not a book you read and forget; this is a book you read and think about, again and again . . . everything that has happened in this book could be true. That's why it sticks in your mind and keeps coming back for rethought."
-Jo Ann Hakola, The Book Faerie
“For we are the granddaughters of the witches you could not burn.”
--author unknown
“We stopped checking for monsters under the bed when we realized they are inside us.”
--author unknown
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Locard’s Exchange Principle (1910)
Dr. Edmond Locard, a medical doctor and early forensic scientist, is credited with the idea that “every contact leaves a trace.”
Though he had no solid evidence of it at the time, Locard believed every time two objects came in contact each left evidence of the touch on the other. He also believed that, one day, we would be able to scientifically prove this.
Forensics:
The study of evidence to discover how past events occurred.
Many divisions of forensics exist, from standard crime scene investigation to forensic archeology and even to forensic accounting.
All inquiry into scientific fact to re-create a crime scene is, thus, forensic investigation.
The Science of Myth
Witches:
Ergot
It is now believed that the Salem Witch Trials were not so much an issue of witchcraft as the result of town-wide ergot poisoning. The weather conditions in 1692 were perfect for the growth of this rye mold. The effects of ergot poisoning are surprisingly specific: hallucinations of people taking flight and the feeling of being pinched or pecked at.
Zombies:
Rabies
Rabies infection is one plausible—though not proven—probability for the origin of the Zombie myth. Rabies infection in humans dulls brain function, reduces sensitivity to pain and creates the overwhelming urge to bite others. Biting is necessary for disease transferal through the saliva.
Tetrodotoxin
Unlike the rabies theory, tetrodotoxin use is well recorded. This poison puts the victim in a death-like state, creating paralysis to the point of complete lack of response. It also reduces the heartbeat to a rate so low it cannot usually be detected by non-mechanical methods. Victims are often buried, exhumed, and then told they are the reanimated dead.
Vampires:
Porphyria
This is actually a blanket term for several diseases that alter heme—the oxygen carrying molecule in human blood. Porphyria eats away at the skin and gums, making the affected appear both corpse-like and fanged. The disease also gives the victim a strong aversion to foods high in sulfur content, such as garlic.
Werewolves:
?
INTRODUCTION
Eleri Eames stepped off the grounds of Lakewood Hospital and into her own recognizance for the first time in three months.
Quite certain she wasn’t ready for release, she stood on the curb with her plastic bag in hand, her clothing and wallet clear to all who drove by while she waited for her friend Wade to show up. Unbeknownst to her, Agent Westerfield—her new boss at the FBI—called the hospital yesterday and demanded her early release. So today she stood on the curb, no longer being treated.
Intent on her healing, Eleri avoided most contact with the outside world for the past three months, but she’d spent the entire previous afternoon calling old partners and friends still in the Bureau. Only one had even heard of Agent Westerfield. All her friend offered was a vague recollection from more than ten years ago.
In a startling move, Westerfield called her yesterday in her room to inform her that he was her new boss. No sooner had she sputtered at the announcement, than she was catching her breath again to find out that she was on a case—starting immediately. The man gave very little information about the assignment.
At first Eleri tried to put her foot down, being very clear that she belonged in the hospital to finish her healing. When that didn’t work, she argued that she couldn’t continue doing the work she’d been doing before. It had landed her a hospital stint that lasted three months and should have been four. While Westerfield had agreed the work would be different, he stayed fuzzy about everything else.
So she stood on the curb, waiting for Wade. She held a clear baggie of her worldly goods and no more information than she’d had yesterday.
Apparently it didn’t matter if a person’s rehab was done, when the FBI called, the hospital signed the release papers and nearly shoved her out the door. She would head home, and though she didn’t need it, she would immediately shower in her own bathroom, with her own shampoo and slide into her jeans. She would pull her suits out of the closet and check her wardrobe to see what needed dry-cleaning. She didn’t know what the case was, but Westerfield assured her she’d be on it very soon. She had to be ready to travel.
Eleri wasn’t quite sure why she’d agreed to become part of his unit. She honestly wasn’t sure that she had agreed to it, but somewhere along the line it became official. She would be getting a new partner, though Westerfield had been vague about that, too.
For the next two days she contemplated the one piece of information she was given—the name of the unit that she wasn’t allowed to ask around about. So she asked everyone. She asked everything she could. But she never said the name.
NightShade.
1
Donovan Heath could tell from the start that his first assignment was not going to go as planned. Senior Agent in Charge Westerfield was not what he expected. Donovan had talked to the man on the phone a handful of times and they’d exchanged more email than could be counted. The medium, stocky-but-strong build was as expected, though Donovan really would have thought the man would have that comic-book city commissioner look with the gray being smart enough to stick to the temples. Westerfield’s was everywhere. Still the pictures Donovan looked up online didn’t show the unbelievably blue eyes that looked at Donovan as though he were a piece of meat that had not yet passed inspection. The photos also failed to show just how shockingly white and overly perfect Westerfield’s teeth were. Donovan didn’t trust men with perfect teeth. There was also that quarter the lead agent walked back and forth across his knuckles, as though the meeting was not interesting enough and he had to fidget.
Donovan might have overlooked the see-through-you eyes and the too-white teeth, but he couldn’t get past the scent that Westerfield wasn’t right. Something about his smell . . .
His new partner sat beside him—also a shock, if Donovan was admitting things—sagely nodding at the list of dos and don’ts that Westerfield was reviewing with them. It was a formality, this first meeting, a chance for either of them to back out and he was considering doing just that.
Eleri Eames, his new senior partner, seemed to have no such desires. She didn’t seem to sense anything was off about Agent Westerfield. Donovan managed to avoid outwardly flinching. As a child, he learned quickly that his sense of smell was stronger than everyone else’s. He learned not to show when things smelled “off,” not unless the stench was overpowering and everyone else around him was reacting.
So Donovan Heath, newly minted FBI Agent, sat quietly, nodding each time Agent Eames did and contemplating the wisdom of his decisions.
He was ambivalent about so many things. Sitting here, wearing non-sneaker shoes and a suit when he felt he should shed it all and go running free, was a decision he wasn’t sure was in his own best interest. He would not have anywhere near the opportunities to run that he was used to and he wasn’t sure how that would affect him—if at all. Aside from a stint in junior high when he’d been going through puberty, which was its own personal hell, he’d never tried to not run.
He wasn’t sure about his partner. Her bio included only a headshot, so he knew she had pale green eyes, rounded cheeks, full lips, and a smattering of freckles that sweetened an already friendly face. But it didn’t show that she barely passed five-foot-four and he could see she was wearing heels. She probably stood five-two if she stretched, making her an odd accompaniment to
his six-foot-three.
Her emails had been all no-nonsense. Even the personal details—where she grew up, what led her to the FBI—didn’t give him a clue at all to the fact that she spoke every word with a crisp accent. It was almost Southern. When he listened closely, he heard faint traces of something he couldn’t place. What was easy to see and place now that he met her in person was money. Old money.
Eleri Eames probably did not need this job. Maybe she had been vacationing for the past three months. She sure hadn’t been working for the FBI during that time. Donovan had been in training, working his ass off. Living in the new clime of Virginia, in and around all the FBI recruits, the vast majority of whom were years younger than him.
Yes, he was of two minds about his ability to run. He’d have new places to go and more opportunities to get caught. He was of two minds about this job. The old one had gotten monotonous and he needed something new, but Donovan was no longer so sure this was it. And he was of two minds about his new partner. She was his senior partner, but looked like she was fresh out of high school. She was younger, higher ranked, and oozed the scent of real wealth.
Donovan, always a loner, was wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
ELERI HUNG back until SAC Westerfield noticed. Agent Heath clearly wasn’t interested in heading out for a beer and some get-to-know-you conversation even though they were in his hometown. She’d had that before; her last partner had met her, grinned, stuck out his hand and given her his best good-ole-boy impression while suggesting a beer. This time she was the senior agent, and admittedly at a loss.
“Eames?” Westerfield finally acknowledged her over his shoulder.
“Sir, if you have a moment, please.” Her shorter legs left her perpetually feeling like a small child struggling to catch up. From the back she could see that his gait was as perfect as his smile and she wondered if he’d been crafted as a fully formed adult from a kit of some kind.
He nodded as he walked, letting her introduce the topic. It showed he trusted her here in the hallway, where people could listen, where other agents could hear, not to discuss the case they’d been assigned as their first. Luckily, she’d gotten all her questions about that answered back in the room. Well, at least the ones she could think to ask. No, this was a different topic. “How much has Heath been told about my history?”