Perfect Storm (Judah Black Novels, #0)

by E. A. Copen

  The entry to Chanter’s was narrow, bordered on the right by a countertop that curved around into a bar. On the left he kept a coat rack and stacks of carved sticks of all kinds as well as shoes. It was Chanter’s rule that no one was to move past that entry way with shoes on, so I slipped mine off and kicked them off to the side.

  Hunter waited in the living room ahead on the old corduroy sofa of Chanter’s. Sal had taken up a position behind Hunter that struck me as protective. He stood where he could pace, but still easily be able to intervene should something go wrong, a place where his back would never be to someone coming through the door. If he didn’t trust Logan, I figured I shouldn’t ether.

  I walked as far as the living room and stopped, turning around and crossing my arms.

  Logan stepped in through the door Chanter held open. His eyes went first to the ceiling for some reason, then swept back and forth. The dog, Bolt, stood at his side, panting, ears perked. When Logan walked, Bolt stayed at his side.

  Chanter let the screen door swing shut, but didn’t latch it. “Would you like anything to drink? Something to eat?”

  “Maybe just some water for Bolt. No food. She’s had enough treats today, haven’t you girl?” He patted the dog’s head.

  “Do we really have time for these kinds of pleasantries?” I said. “Valentino’s on borrowed time as it is.”

  “There’s always time to be polite to a guest.” Chanter stepped around Logan and Bolt. He filled a bowl with water from the tap.

  “You weren’t that polite to me.” I said it low, but werewolf hearing was good enough that there was no way Chanter missed what I’d said.

  “If I recall correctly, Agent Black, when we first met, it was when you barged your way into my shop intent the night after another werewolf had been murdered.” Chanter placed the bowl on the floor and Bolt trotted over to gulp it up. “I would not call that guest behavior, nor would I extend the rights of a guest to my place of business. If you’re offended, you can always leave.”

  I bit my tongue and turned away. Chanter had a point. Didn’t mean I had to like it.

  Chanter came over and sank into the blue recliner he always sat in, but only after Logan had seated himself in the opposite chair. I stood between them and waited while Chanter offered Logan a cigarette that he declined.

  “So,” Chanter began, “will you be staying through the holiday? Halloween is tomorrow night.”

  When they struck up a conversation, that’s where I drew the line.

  I stepped forward and both men paused as I blocked them from making eye contact. “If we don’t get the anti-venom to Valentino within forty-eight hours, he’s going to die and Leo’s going to grow up without a dad. Getting that anti-venom means catching whatever bit him, and that thing must be huge according to Doc. Now, if you’re not going to help—”

  “This girl has more thunder in her mouth than the storm.” Logan chuckled.

  “The chaos surrounding each is similar.” Chanter folded his arms and let out a breath. His whole being deflated with that breath. “Very well, girl. But first, let us finish the introduction that was cut short.” He gestured to Logan. “This is Logan Creed. He is a certified bail enforcement agent here to retrieve a dangerous criminal on the run, one who uses magick.”

  Why wasn’t I informed there was a criminal on the loose? The branch of the government that I work for, BSI—or the Bureau of Supernatural Investigations—tracks, monitors and solves supernatural crimes. I was the lone presence on the reservation, and in all of Concho County. Something like that should have been all over my desk before I left for the day. At the very least, Tindall should have called me. The only reason he wouldn’t have called me would be because he didn’t know either.

  I eyed Logan again. “You mean he’s a bounty hunter.”

  “Oh, I hunt, but that title makes me sound more like a soldier of fortune, and it takes more than money to make prey worthy of my attention.” Logan rose and tucked his hands into the rear pockets of his jeans. “The criminal I’m hunting is a killer, a practitioner of magick registered in your database. She is wanted for murder.”

  “Why am I just now finding out about this?” I turned my suspicious look to Chanter, who didn’t pay me any mind.

  “The storm is part of the reason,” Logan answered. “I also wish to keep my presence unknown to her. I have an idea of where she’s hiding, but I will need access to the reservation.”

  “No offense, but what does this have to do with Valentino? Why should we care about this escaped murderer?” Hunter asked.

  Logan glanced over at Chanter. “Because the woman I am hunting and the snake that you need to catch may be one and the same.”

  Chapter Four

  It was one thing to hunt a killer. It was an entirely different thing to hunt down a killer with fangs and the ability to inject deadly venom into her victims. Vampires and werewolves might have fangs, but it was their bite that was deadly, not any kind of venom.

  “There’s no way,” I said, shaking my head. “I saw the bite marks on Valentino’s leg firsthand. Hell, I helped Doc clean out the wound. No human mouth could have made a bite that size.”

  Logan steepled his fingers. “Well, the answer to that depends on how willing you are to believe in what you cannot see. Officially, Zara is listed in the BSI database as a human practitioner whose specialty is magick related to the control of bodies of water. She was arrested for murder for the first time over a decade ago.”

  “First time? She’s been arrested for it more than once?”

  Logan flashed me a sly grin. “Oh, many times. Murder, as you know, is not always something that keeps you behind bars forever.”

  He opened his jacket and produced a tan folder that he placed on the kitchen counter. That meant if I had any interest in seeing what was inside that folder, I’d have to cross the room and stand next to him. I’d be giving up a position where I had power and moving to a vulnerable one. To humans, that doesn’t mean much, but I worked with vampires, werewolves, and predatory fae. Body language says a lot more than most humans give it credit.

  Forcing prey to move into a vulnerable position was one way a predator could gain the trust of his next meal, right before he ate it. I didn’t know what Logan was, not yet, but I suspected already that he was more than just human. If I got the chance, I’d peek at his aura, but I couldn’t do that without drawing Chanter’s attention, and Chanter would firmly side with his guest if Logan took offense. It’s weird, but some creatures really don’t like it when you look at their auras. I suppose it’s the supernatural equivalent to peeking at someone in the shower.

  Of course, I wanted to see what was in Logan’s folder, which meant moving closer. Instead of coming to stand beside him, I walked to the other side of the counter, which would hopefully serve as a sort of barrier if he decided he wanted to eat me.

  Logan gave me an expectant look, both eyebrows raised, and then turned back to his open folder, spinning a printout around for me. “Her first victims were her own children. Drowned them in a bathtub.”

  I felt a little sick looking at the arrest report. Zara’s picture sat in the upper left corner of the page. The expression on her face was one some might easily mistake for dazed, but to me she just looked broken. Dark circles colored her sunken eyes, and her dark brown hair looked more like a bird’s nest than hair. Her skin looked unnaturally thin and stretched tight over her angular face. She didn’t look like a monster, just a mother at the end of her rope. She wasn’t the first mother to drown her kids, and she wouldn’t be the last. Poor woman.

  I’d been where she was, and it was a dark place. After my husband was murdered, I was a single mom, left to raise Hunter on my own. With no job, in a depressed area, and bills coming due, I had no idea how I was going to pay for Alex’s funeral, let alone keep the electric on. So, when BSI approached me and offered to train me for the job, I jumped on it. If BSI hadn’t been there to help with paid training and daycare vouchers, I
don’t know what I would have done.

  “She served five years in a state hospital for that before being let loose.” Logan slid another set of pages to me, another arrest record and trial notes. “Zara was out four months before she killed again. The evidence was circumstantial and she was acquitted, but there’s no doubt in my mind she’s guilty.”

  The record he placed in front of me told a story that sounded all too familiar. A neighbor kid had wandered out during a storm and fallen into the nearby creek which was unusually swollen. The kid drowned. When EMS arrived at the scene, Zara was in the water over the girl’s body. An autopsy apparently found bruising on the kid’s shoulders and skin under his fingernails, but someone must’ve botched the DNA samples because it looked like the judge ruled it was inadmissible for some reason.

  “It’s the third murder you’ll find really interesting.” He held out another handful of pages to me and I took them, skimming it as he spoke. “A witness reports seeing her grow fangs and scales and then bite the victim. That second page is a photo of the bite. I wouldn’t look unless you’ve got a strong constitution.”

  I glared at him and then flipped over the next page to look at the photo. It was gruesome. It looked like someone had peeled away the entire first layer of skin on this guy’s arm. A red, open and swollen area sat on the forearm with black all around it. Some of the wound looked greenish in color.

  Logan shrugged. “This time, they were able to use DNA to confirm that it was indeed Zara that bit him. The official report, as you can see, says she used a prosthetic to inject an unidentifiable caustic substance under the skin resembling rattlesnake venom.”

  I flipped the photo over, feeling more than a little woozy. “Are you trying to tell me this lady can turn into a venomous snake?”

  “Not just any snake.” Logan lifted his pointer fingers and placed them on either side of his head. “They say the snake had antlers like a stag and feathers like a bird.”

  Werewolves I could believe. I’d even buy that there were a few fae out there that could change shape at will. Just a few months ago, I’d run into a wendigo who could take the shape of anyone whose flesh he consumed. But someone who could turn into a giant, antlered snake? That was far-fetched, even for me.

  “And this antler-bird snake—”

  “Zara,” Logan corrected. “Her name is Zara.”

  “Zara, the antler-bird snake, you’re saying she’s what bit Valentino?”

  Logan smiled. “As I said, it depends on how much you’re willing to believe.”

  I looked back to gauge everyone else’s reactions. Sal had a worried look on his face. Hunter acted like he wasn’t paying attention, busying himself with a fishing magazine. Chanter had lit a cigarette and puffed on it thoughtfully, staring straight ahead.

  “I’ll believe in the antler snake when we can catch it and use it to make an anti-venom for Valentino,” I said, turning back to Logan. “In the meantime, we’re going to have to comb the area near the river and look for any signs. Something that big must have left something behind. A den, animal carcasses from where it had been eating, snake droppings, something.”

  “Unless your snake can walk away on two legs,” Logan said with another shrug. “In which case, a door-to-door search may be in order.”

  I crossed my arms. “What makes you so sure she’s in Paint Rock of all places?”

  “I have been tracking Zara for eight months, ever since she didn’t report for her last hearing. I know her. I know how she thinks. She will seek out a place she thinks she can hide, a place near water, a place where the magick is old and strong. Paint Rock is that place.” He started collecting the papers he’d passed to me. “You know, Agent Black, you didn’t ask me what happened to the last man she bit.”

  “Allegedly.”

  He gave me a tight-lipped smile. “Allegedly bit.”

  The truth was, I didn’t want to think about it. If what Logan said was true and she’d been on the run for six months without being caught, chances were good she’d get away this time, too. And if she did hold the key to saving Valentino, he’d be dead if she escaped. Alternatively, Logan Creed could be a crazy person sending me on a wild goose chase. Well, snake chase.

  But Logan didn’t take the hint. He stacked his papers inside his folder and then tapped it on the counter. “The man she bit died slowly and in great pain that no medicine could lessen. His screams terrified even the most seasoned nurses on the hospital staff. It was not a good death.”

  “If you’re trying to tell me what’s at stake, you don’t need to. Valentino is a friend. I’m going to do everything in my power to help. That doesn’t necessarily mean taking everything you say at face value.”

  “Zara is inside those reservation walls, and my job is to find her and bring her back.” He tucked the folder back inside his jacket. “You and I want the same thing, whether you believe it or not.”

  “Search the reservation for your escaped criminal.” I made a wide gesture toward the door. “Go door-to-door, if you want. Your job is to follow your leads and mine is to follow mine and help Valentino.”

  Logan smiled. Something about it sparked my heart to beat faster and my adrenaline to surge. That smile wasn’t just a smile. It was the grin of a predator on the hunt and it shook me to the core, though I did my best to keep a steady glare. “My purpose was to let you know as a courtesy. I have done that. Now that I have your leave, I will be on my way.” He came around the counter and nodded to Chanter, who stood. “Thank you for your hospitality, old wolf. As for the rest of you...” He trailed off, looked over at me, and then chuckled. “You keep interesting company, Chanter.”

  “These are interesting times,” Chanter answered.

  “They are indeed.”

  Logan walked past me without another glance, pulled open the front door and left.

  Sal tapped Hunter on the shoulder and gestured toward the door.

  Chanter, who still stood facing the door, had other ideas. “If you think you will go to the hospital and try to heal Valentino, then you are stupider than I thought.” Finally, Chanter turned to address Sal directly, crossing his arms over his chest. “It is one thing to pull venom from a fresh wound, but this has festered, and it is not natural venom. You know this.”

  Sal squared his jaw and shook his head. “You expect me to do nothing while one of our own is fighting for his life?”

  Chanter gave me a long, sideways glance. His eyes lit up a bright shade of gold, the color they turned when he let the wolf look out. “I expect you to remember your teachings,” he said, turning back to Sal, “to remember your people and where they come from. Remember the stories.”

  Sal lowered his head. “They’re just stories.”

  “It was not so very long ago that the world believed we were just stories, too. And the wendigo the girl slew in the caves, he was only a story, too. If you are to take my place, Saloso, you will have to find something to believe in outside of your own strength. Even the craziest stories are rooted in some truth.” Chanter walked up to Sal and reached up to place his hands on Sal’s shoulders. “You will help her, and in doing so I hope you help yourself. Go to Valentino, but do not take his illness upon yourself. One sick and dying werewolf is better than two.”

  “And if you’re wrong?” Sal asked, looking down at Chanter, his eyebrows drawn together in worry. “If I can save him, don’t I have an obligation to try, even if it might result in me being hurt, too? A leader—”

  “A leader’s place is to make the difficult decisions when the time comes.” Chanter squeezed Sal’s shoulders. “And you are not a leader, not yet.”

  Sal dropped his head and his shoulders relaxed. “Yes, Alpha.”

  Chanter sighed and removed his hands, lifting a small leather bag from around his neck. “I will make you a deal. If you can wear the title for a day, just twenty-four hours, then I’ll willingly step aside and bow to your lead.” He placed the bag in Sal’s hand and closed Sal’s fingers around it.


  Sal shook his head. “But—”

  “No buts!” Chanter barked. “Do as you’re told. Your brother is dying. Go and help him.”

  Sal looked down at his hand, then back at Chanter before nodding once. He opened his hand and let the leather bag dangle for a moment before taking a deep breath and placing it over his head. Something in the air changed when he did. It took on a heavy, electrified feel, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. A wave of it extended out from where Sal and Chanter stood in a ring, strong enough that it staggered Hunter. Magick, a lot of it.

  When it passed, Chanter let out a deep breath and slowly sank back into his chair.

  Sal turned away, gold light fading from his eyes. “Come on,” he said to me and Hunter. “Let’s go check on Valentino.” He walked past me, jerked open the front door and stepped out. Hunter followed on his heels, his eyes slightly glazed and distant.

  “What’d you do to my son?” I asked Chanter.

  Chanter grunted and lit another cigarette. Yeah, that was good for his lung cancer. “The mantle of leadership is a heavy thing. For those who are new to its pull as your son is, it can have a very strong effect. Do not worry, girl.” Chanter blew out a ring of smoke. “He’s fine. You should be more concerned about Logan.”

  “What is he?”

  “Didn’t you hear?” Chanter turned and gave me a deadpan look. “He’s a bounty hunter.”

  I sighed. I should’ve known better than to expect a straight answer from an old Indian medicine man or a werewolf. That Chanter was both made it even less surprising. He must’ve known it, too, because as I was leaving I heard him chuckle to himself.

  Chapter Five

  “So,” I said, pulling the passenger door to Sal’s truck closed, “are you going to tell me exactly what stories you two were referring to in there? I feel like I missed something important.”

  “Quetzacoatl.”

  Both Sal and I turned to Hunter, who was sandwiched between us, eyebrows raised.