Blood Debt (Judah Black Novels Book 2)

Blood

DEBT

A Judah Black Novel

E.A. COPEN

COPYRIGHT © 2016 by E.A. Copen

All rights reserved.

ISBN-10: 1534754416

ISBN-13: 978-1534754415

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Cover Art by Ravenborn

Published in the United States of America.

The author respects trademarks and copyrighted material mentioned in this book by introducing such registered items in italics or with proper capitalization.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, persons, places and incidents are all used factiously and are the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or locales is coincidental and non-intentional, unless otherwise specifically noted.

DEDICATION

For
Anne who had to suffer through my many attempts at saving her from herself. I’m glad I failed. You turned out okay, sis.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book was incredibly more difficult to write than the first. I wouldn’t have survived its inception without the loving patience of my husband and children. Thanks to the many countless indie authors who answered my strange questions at all hours of the day and night. There really are too many to name but I’d like to specifically thank the talented Amy Hopkins for her tips and R.R. Virdi for his inspirational advice.
Also, many thanks to Raven Blackburn. There isn’t enough space on the page to convey my thanks for all you’ve done to make these two books a success.

Blood
DEBT

A Judah Black Novel

E.A. COPEN

CHAPTER ONE

There was blood on the ceiling. It started dead center, next to a light fixture, and tracked down one side of the wall, coalescing into a pool of mashed meat when it reached the floor. The wet penny scent of blood and the distinct smell of human viscera hung heavy in the air. Tiny red specks dotted an array of film equipment as if someone had swung a paintbrush dipped in red paint. Given the sheer number of discarded boom microphones, cameras, lights and other film equipment, I would have thought the whole thing part of the movie set if someone hadn’t already told me otherwise.

The room was a faux bedroom of sorts, though it didn’t have all the typical trimmings of such a space. There was a round bed with leather restraints at regular intervals and black satin sheets. The bed was an odd find in the back room of a nightclub like Aisling. Then again, I’d been hearing rumors Aisling sold more than dreams and desires for fifteen months now. I didn’t know why anything about the fae and vampire owned club should surprise me.

A little-known fact about most crime scenes: they put a plastic lined bucket by the door. On entering, I made use of it with all the dignity and charm befitting a thirty-something professional female investigator. I turned, doubled over and threw up the coffee I’d chugged on the way there.

A sympathetic hand came down on my back. “Jesus Christ,” Detective Tindall cursed, rubbing his arms. “Why the hell is it so damn cold in here? And what the hell is that smell?”

When a grizzled old cop like Tindall gagged, you know it’s bad.

Outside, it was still dark and the air cool, but it wasn’t cold. The ambient temperature inside the room made up like a bedroom hung somewhere near freezing. The contents of the bucket in front of me steamed. My stomach turned again and I gagged. Thank God all I’d had so far was coffee.

One of the cops at the scene came up to us. He was wearing an Eden PD uniform and little plastic baggies over his polished shoes. “You can’t be in here.”

I spat and pulled a paper towel down from a roll someone had been thoughtful enough to put up, thankful for the bucket. “Special Agent Judah Black,” I announced, pushing the woozy feeling away and drawing my badge out of my pocket. “BSI.”

The beat cop looked a little relieved. “Feds? Who called you guys?”

“I’m not—” Tindall started and I gave him an elbow to the ribs to shut him up.

“A concerned citizen called with an anonymous tip,” I answered in Tindall’s place. “Who’s in charge here?”

“I am.”

I turned around and almost ran into a red-faced, silver-haired cop in a county uniform. His forehead wrinkled and he paused to draw a handkerchief across his face, leaving it in place over his nose and mouth, trapping clouds of warm breath. As he did, I spotted the sheriff’s badge on his chest. I offered him my hand. He paused, stared at it, and then reached out to squeeze it with palms as thick and soft as a baby’s cheeks.

“Sheriff Butch Maude,” he said in a gruff tone and wiped his hand on his shirt after I let him go.

“Good to meet you, sheriff. I’m a little surprised to see you here.”

“And why wouldn’t I be here? I’m heading this case personally,” he said with a grunt. “Messy case like this, just weeks before the election? The opposition would eat me alive if I didn’t show. Who called you in?”

I hesitated with my answer. My office was down the road on the Paint Rock Supernatural Reservation. Ever since I got shipped out there, I'd had my hands full with a pack of werewolves, shifty vampires, and the fae. It was all I could do most days to keep the peace. The reservation may have only been three square miles, but it needed a full-time presence from the Bureau of Supernatural Investigations. I was well within my rights, though, to pursue cases beyond the reservation, provided I cleared it with my supervisors.

Considering what I had heard about the victims…Well, the case was going to land on my desk eventually, procedure or not. I viewed stepping in from the get go a much-needed foray into the dying world of government expediency. Cut out the middle man, I reasoned, and save the taxpayers a dime or twenty. Plus, a friend had called me with the tip.

But I hadn’t expected to run into a sheriff with election fever. The election loomed just a few weeks away. I doubted Maude would be so present if this wasn’t an election year.

“I got an anonymous tip from one of the patrons here,” I said with a shrug. “I figured you could use everybody you could get on this.”

Maude, still red-faced, jerked his chin toward Tindall. “And you just thought you’d bring my opponent down here with you, huh?”

Tindall sucked in a deep breath and worked hard to keep from muttering a curse. “Look, Maude, can we put all this election…
crap
behind us? I’m here to help, not to drum up votes.”

Maude narrowed his eyes. The two men entered into a stare off until I cleared my throat. “Boys, come on. Can we get back to the dead bodies in the room?” I put a hand on Maude’s shoulder. “Walk me through what you know so far. Why the film equipment?”

“Disgusting,” Maude spat, shrugging my hand away. “Smut movies. One of the vics was a porno director. Vampire. Hence the smell. Apparently, their guts have a special odor. That’s him…Or what’s left of him.” He pointed to the viscera smear on the wall. “Eden City Council’s been trying to shut him down ever since he filed for the permits but he’d greased enough palms to keep rolling. Been filming out here at Aisling for six weeks now. Name on the permit was Harry something.”

“Harry Hardrata,” one of the beat cops chimed in. Maude leered at him.

I paced over to one of the cameras. “Tell me they were rolling when it happened.”

“If only we could be so lucky,” Maude said with a grunt. “Of course they weren’t rolling. I thought the same thing. I also thought witnesses would be more helpful but, so far, all I’ve gotten is two piles of Jack and shit. I don’t think you’ll find them talkative.”

“There were witnesses?” Tindall asked. “Where? How many?”

“Three, but don’t bother. One bit it just as the meat wagon showed. Surprised he made it so long. His torso was a pancake.”

"And the other two?" I asked, trying to mask the hope in my voice. An open and shut case was exactly what I was hoping for.

"Vampires." Maude almost choked on the word. "Some foreign diplomat who's been about as useful as tits on a boar hog."

“I’d like to talk to them, just the same.”

Maude let out a booming laugh at Tindall's request. “You must think I’m stupid." He leaned in closer. "Read my lips. Hell no. You’ve got about as much jurisdiction here as a cow does at the Burger Barn. The fact I haven’t had you escorted from the premises is a stretch of favors. This isn’t your crime scene yet,
detective
.”

“It’s not technically yours either,
sheriff
, until Agent Black determines it is.”

“We’ll see.”

I tuned out the political mudslinging and went over to the second body. Harry’s wasn’t going to yield many clues in its current state. Maybe I’d get lucky with the girl. The medical examiner stood over the body, making notes on a tablet. Every once in a while, I’d hear the shutter sound as she positioned the tablet to take a picture.

“I don’t suppose she had an ID on her?” I said.

The ME, a falsetto raven-haired, pale-faced woman at least five years my junior, gave me an unamused frown before pulling back the plastic covering she’d put over the body. “Meet Jane Doe.”

Jane was young, as in the barely legal sense. Her small body was pale except for the places covered in watery, inhuman blood. She was wearing a red velvet corset but not much else. Her stockings hung in delicate threads from black garters. Puncture marks of various ages dotted her neck, chest, and inside of both legs. Skin clung tight to the muscle and bone of her body. I was no medical examiner but I figured the cause of death was pretty obvious. A two-inch hole was bored into her chest and went all the way through.

The ME dropped the plastic back over Jane Doe.

“There must be papers on file here,” I pointed out. “For taxes and stuff. The film crew would have them, too.”

“Not my department,” the ME noted. “I’ve got enough paperwork trying to put these two back together again.” She looked up at me from behind her safety glasses. “What do you think it was? Was it magick?”

“Magick doesn’t kill people,” I said with a wary glance at the blood spatter on the wall. “People who use magick kill people. Magick is a weapon like any other.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “That’s not how I’d put it. Anyone can pick up a gun, agent. Only a select few get magick.”

“Magick’s a lot more common than people think,” I said looking over the girl. “Just not everybody’s got enough to trigger a positive test from BSI.”

“That’s not what the government says.”

“Ever get a tingling on the back of your neck when you were sure someone was watching you? Dream something before it happens? Some folks just get a rock in the bottom of their gut when something bad happens to someone they love.” I grabbed a glove from a box nearby and slapped it on. “It’s magick. It’s basic and most people can’t tap into anything more complex, but you’d be surprised at just how common it is.” I shifted the body for a better look at the hole in her chest. "Have you ever seen anything like this, doc?"

"No. Never. But all the bite marks and the lack of any of her blood in the immediate area would otherwise suggest a vampire kill. If I were a betting woman, I'd put my money on exsanguination. I mean, I can’t put death by curse on the death certificate"

"A lot of things could make a hole like that."

“Come on," said the ME, exasperated. "How can it
not
be a curse?”

“A curse, a true curse, takes a lot of mojo. I can’t just stand over a fire and say some magick words and then people fall over dead.”

The ME chewed on her purple painted lip. “I didn’t realize magick was so specialized.”

“There are a few people around who could pull off something like this as a curse but not many. I can name the number of capable practitioners in the area on one hand.”

“If it’s not some kind of magick spell, what is it then? I’ve never seen someone explode without finding explosives at the scene.”

“I’m going to find out.”

“It looks like she was human.” The focus in her eyes wavered as she glanced at the stain on the wall. “He wasn’t. Anyone who will talk will tell you the scumbag director was a vamp. My guess is Jane here was his personal chew toy for the camera before it all went down. It’s just a guess, though. I won’t know anything for sure until I open her up.”

The commotion on the other side of the room got a little more heated. I turned my back to the medical examiner to see Maude’s nose two inches from Tindall’s face, still trying to stare him down.

The sheriff pointed emphatically to the floor. “If you think I’m going to let you talk at my press conference, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Tindall’s eye twitched. He had his hands on his hips, leaning forward. Maude must have forgotten Tindall interrogated vampires and werewolves on a daily basis. The glare Tindall gave the sheriff was a signature move.