by AE Jones
“Did he have a steady job?”
Charlie turned the page of his notebook. “That’s where it gets interesting. He was an accountant for Manny Edwards.”
Muriel frowned slightly. “You don’t think it’s legit?”
“Oh, he probably did work with numbers, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t on the up-and-up. We’ve never been able to catch him, but I’d bet my shield Manny’s restaurant is a front for a bookie joint.”
Manny was also a shifter who dealt with many of the supernaturals in the city, but they did not need to know that.
“We’ve tried to place several cops under cover in his operation, but no one has ever lasted for long.”
Which was no surprise. Shifters were incredibly skillful at sniffing out emotions, walking supernatural versions of a lie-detector. They would see right through a cop’s cover. “Will you be interviewing Manny?”
Charlie smiled. “Oh, yeah. He’s top on my list.”
Once Charlie had finished with his interrogation, Jean Luc would visit himself to find out the truth. After all, Charlie had no inkling of what to ask.
* * *
Jean Luc watched a very irritated police detective peel away from Manny’s establishment. He would wait a few more minutes before approaching the restaurant.
He rested his head against the car seat and closed his eyes. He was tired, as much as a vampire could be tired, and he longed for a moment of quiet. However, instead of silence, he was being serenaded by his partner, who, if he was not mistaken was whistling the theme song from one of the multitude of television shows he regularly devoured, memorized and then trotted out to fill every quiet moment.
“Misha, may I have a moment of peace, s’il vous plait?”
The whistling stopped.
Jean Luc took several deep breaths. Why did he continue doing this work? Another dead body. Another case of a supernatural risking exposure to humans. Another lie he must fabricate to conceal the truth. A century of the same issues, of moving back and forth across the country, unable to build a sense of permanence. Misha and he had only been living in Indianapolis for a couple of months. Nicholas had reassigned them to Indiana a week before the killings started. Which was a very significant coincidence, and Jean Luc didn’t believe in coincidence. But until they found the killer, he would table the list of questions he had for his boss.
“What is wrong, my friend?” Misha asked, his deep Russian accent rumbling in the close quarters of the car.
“Nothing. We should go see Manny now.”
Misha shook his head slightly. “You may be older than I am, vampire, but it does not mean you’re a good liar.”
Jean Luc turned to issue a retort, but instead quirked a brow at his teammate. He had not paid attention to the demon’s outfit earlier. He was wearing a white suit with a turquoise t-shirt and shoes with no socks. Did he dare ask him why he was dressed this way? No, ignorance was truly bliss when it came to Misha’s peculiarities. And he was glaring at him as only a stubborn Russian could.
Jean Luc blew out a breath in defeat. “These murders worry me. I have not seen this kind of blatant disregard for exposure of our kind in centuries.” Not since The Wars, and that was not a subject Jean Luc wished to discuss.
“Do you have a theory yet?”
“No. And I have arrived at the crime scenes too long after the killer left to sense any residual energy which might reveal what type of supernatural we are pursuing.” He reached for the door handle. “Shall we go in?”
They climbed out of the car and were greeted at the restaurant door by Manny’s version of a host. He loomed as tall as Misha, who stood six feet six inches, and his neck was as big around as Jean Luc’s waist.
“Welcome to Manuelo’s.”
Jean Luc glanced around the restaurant. “We would like to speak with Manny.”
The behemoth crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Sorry, he’s not available right now.”
A door behind the host’s counter opened and a short, portly man appeared. “It’s okay, Jacob, I’ll take it from here.” He gestured them to a corner booth.
Once they were seated, he smiled and said, “I’m Manny, and you must be the new team Nicholas assigned to the city.”
“How did you know?” asked Misha.
He shrugged. “Vampires and demons don’t normally mix, so I put two and two together.”
“Then you also know we are here to discuss Peter’s murder,” Jean Luc said.
Manny frowned. “I can’t believe Peter’s dead. The cops wouldn’t tell me what happened.”
“Peter was killed by a supernatural.”
“Damn.”
“What can you tell us?” Misha interjected.
“Same things I told the cops. I don’t know who would want to kill him. He was a good employee and got along with everyone.”
Jean Luc tuned into the flow of Manny’s blood, listening to his heartbeat, which remained slow and steady. “What about one of your clients who might hold a grudge?”
Manny’s eyes narrowed for a moment, as if he was trying to decide how much to say. “Peter didn’t deal directly with my customers. He worked in the back room and balanced the books.”
“Did he know about supernaturals? That you are a shifter?”
“Nope. We’re careful here. Our human employees don’t have a clue.”
* * *
Jean Luc opened the restaurant door. Dusk cast a light orange hue over the street as the sun sank beneath the skyline.
Misha walked around him toward the car. “Well, that was a bust. It reminds me of a recent episode of Magnum, P.I. Magnum questioned this guy who had stolen…”
The tingling started again, traveling lightly up Jean Luc’s spine, and Misha’s voice faded away. He would swear he sensed a fledgling, but it was not possible. Vampires were required to register with them when entering their jurisdiction. And there were no new vampires under the age of fifty currently living in the city.
He looked across the street, studying the area illuminated by the neon sign advertising the Gentleman’s Club. But unlike the refined gentleman’s clubs Jean Luc had frequented centuries ago, the name now represented something seedy, sordid.
He surveyed the immediate area. No one stood outside the club, and the windows were covered with thick curtains. The street appeared to be empty.
But someone was watching.
Author’s Note
This story takes place in Cleveland and while I tried to stay as accurate to the city as possible, I did bend the truth slightly in order for the story to work. For example, there is a scene in the story that takes place in the locker area of the city’s train station. In real life, there is no locker area in the Cleveland train station. And the office building that the team works in and the warehouses that they frequent throughout the story do not actually exist. Please forgive this author for taking creative license with this and some of the other items concerning the wonderful city of Cleveland.
Acknowledgements
Wow, where to begin? The writing and publication of this book has been such a rollercoaster ride for me. And I have countless people to thank.
Let me start off with my town’s small but mighty writers’ group that I joined several years ago. I remember the first time I went to a meeting. My hands shook and I started to sweat profusely as I read my story out loud for the first time. Thank you for your suggestions and encouragement as you read my books chapter by revised chapter.
Thanks to my friends and beta readers, Audrey, Helen, Jayne, Karen, Lara, Ruth and Trish. You have been my support system throughout this and I could not have gotten here without you.
To my local writer’s chapter, NEORWA, what a wonderful group you are. I have learned so much and found new friends who are not afraid to announce that they hear voices in their heads like I do.
To my friend and critique partner, Becky Lower, thank you for everything and for allowing me to follow in your published writer footsteps. Your
late night calls have made all the difference!
To my editor, Faith, who has made this process as painless as editing can hope to be. I am so relieved that you get my humor and patiently answer my numerous questions!
To my cover artist, Gabrielle. Thanks for talking this neurotic author off the ledge. The cover is wonderful and I can’t wait to see what you have up your sleeve for the rest of the series!
Finally, to my family who didn’t think I was crazy at all when I announced I wanted to be a writer. Instead they argued over having characters named after them in my stories (You got your wish, Dad!). Thanks for never doubting that I could do this even when I doubted it myself.
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 resembles any characters in her books. Honest. Now her two cats are another story altogether.
AE Jones: Mind Sweeper
Copyright © 2014 by Amy E Jones
AE Jones: The Fledgling (excerpt)
Copyright © 2014 by Amy E Jones
Publisher: Gabby Reads Publishing LLC
Cover Art: http://coveryourdreams.net/
Editor: http://www.demonfordetails.com/
ISBN-10: 1941871011
ISBN-13: 978-1-941871-01-0
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
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
Thanks!
Excerpt from THE FLEDGLING
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
About AE Jones
Copyright
