Blood Debt (Judah Black Novels Book 2) (2 page)

I jogged the short distance to push the two apart. I didn’t think it would come to blows, but all the arguing wasn’t doing the crime scene any favors. I needed the energy of the room to be intact if I decided to do any prying later. Those two knuckleheads were contaminating it with their machismo.

“Enough,” I turned to Maude. “Whatever campaign plans you had for this case, you need to suspend them, sheriff. I’ve seen enough of the crime scene to warrant my taking it over. The victim was a vampire, Maude. It’s my case.”

“I have a right to talk to the press,” Maude shouted. “They’ll corner me if I don’t.”

“So long as you don’t go ruining my investigation, talk all you want. Just make sure your people keep me in the loop.”

“Let me know if I can help,” Tindall offered and then pointed his chin at Maude. “Have your little press conference. Just don’t let any of this leak. Things are shaky enough between the vamps and the fae right now. Last thing we need is someone lighting a fire under this and them taking it as an excuse to go at each other’s throats.”

Maude’s whole face convulsed as if he’d just swallowed a mouthful of hair. “I’ve got calls to make,” he spat. “Excuse me.” He pushed between us and stormed for the door.

Tindall removed the faded fedora from his head and fanned himself with it. One side of his upper lip curled as he watched Maude stop in the doorway to shake hands with one of the cops on duty. “This is the dumbest fucking idea ever, Black. I don’t know how you talked me into it.”

“Your wife planted the seed,” I pointed out. “I just got you the last few signatures.” I gave him a slap on the back. “Minorities love you. You’re a shoo-in.”

“I’m not sure I want to be sheriff.”

“You wanted him to run uncontested? Come on. That’s not democracy at work.”

Tindall sighed. “I still don’t know why you brought me out here. Not much campaigning to be done at four in the morning.”

“Almost half your constituents are some variety of nocturnal,” I said with a shrug.

“You talk like I’m already elected.” He rubbed the redness on his nose. “Fuck it. Let’s work the damn case. What’d you find out?”

I told him everything I knew, which wasn’t much, considering. I didn’t
need
to bring Tindall up to speed. The only way he could get officially involved was if I assembled a task force to do some of the legwork and put him in charge. If anyone pitched a fit or protested further, Tindall would have to go wait outside. No one was going to throw him out. It’d make Maude look bad, refusing the help of a so-called expert consultant.

Tindall rubbed his jaw, eyes fixed on the stain on the opposite wall. “So what is it? What are you chasing here, Black?”

I cast another long look around the room before answering. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of anything that can explode one guy while drilling a hole through the other. I don’t have enough information. But I should soon enough.”

“I don’t follow,” said Tindall.

I flashed a smile. “There are still two witnesses downstairs. I figure if I ask nicely, one of them will talk.” When Tindall grumbled, I added, “Someone has to have seen or heard something. You don’t get exploding bodies without noise. You certainly don’t drill into a porn star without someone noticing.”

Tindall raised an eyebrow. It took me a minute to realize what I’d said. I slapped a hand onto my face, trying to wake myself up. You’d think the cold air and coffee would have helped. Then again, I hadn’t had a chance to digest the coffee.

“So, there’s a chance whatever it was will kill again?”

Several nearby cops looked up as Tindall asked his question.

I nodded. “It depends on why this happened. Motive is going to go a long way here. I don’t think this was something random.”

“You don’t even have any guesses?”

“None,” I confirmed. “But there aren’t many things that can make a crime scene like this and even fewer would chance it in front of cameras, running or not.”

"I’m kind of glad we don’t have to sit and watch people explode on tape this early in the morning.”

“Come on, Tindall,” I said, giving his shoulder a gentle punch. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Right next to my political sense,” he quipped and dug his hands into his pockets. "Come on. I don’t know jack about running a campaign but I do know how to grill a witness."

"Why don’t you sit this one out?" I said as we made for the door.

"You sure you can handle them on your own? I hear they’re vamps. I know how you feel about vampires.”

I raised a hand and placed the other over my heart. “I solemnly swear to be on my best behavior.”

“That’ll be the day,” Tindall said and headed back into the crime scene.

CHAPTER TWO

Aisling was not a place I frequented outside of work hours. Yet I’d been in there enough. I was already on a first name basis with one of the owners. The club was a two-person venture. The elusive Kim Kelley, whom I’d never met, ran the financial side of the club while Robbie Fellows worked as Aisling’s face. Well, faces. Being one of the fae and a master of glamors, Robbie could shift his appearance at will.

That night, he was in one of his favorite forms: a slight, soft looking young man with indigo eyes. A shock of flame-colored hair sat on his head, all swept to one side. He was wearing some kind of leather harness with more buckles than a belt store and tight leather pants. When I stepped away from the crime scene, he licked his fingers, slicked them along the edge of a golden, glittery wing of eyeliner, and paraded over to meet me.

I turned the other way, attempting to put a line of cops between me and Robbie. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Robbie… Okay. That was exactly it.

“Agent Black,” he called. When I didn’t answer, he repeated himself louder.

Damn. So much for escape. I stopped and waited for Robbie to fight his way through the crowded hallway before turning around, a false smile plastered on my face. “Robbie.”

“Before you go making a fuss and pulling up files,” he said waving his hands emphatically, “I had no idea what they were doing in there.”

“You’re telling me someone was filming a porno in your club and you didn’t know about it?” I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms.

“Know about it?” Robbie sneered. “Of course I knew about it. But I didn't know specifics and I don't want to. I’m already steaming. That manky wanker didn’t so much as cut me in. Do you know what kind of profit a Continelli film usually turns? I’ve been bloody robbed!”

Robbie was making such a fuss, several officers turned away from their stations and started toward us, hands on their weapons. I waved them down. Robbie would get himself worked up and turn on the waterworks if he thought it would get him whatever he wanted. It wasn’t the first time he’d cried foul. Still, by the dark, intense glare and fixed scowl on his face, I got the feeling this was more than an act.

“Robbie,” I said. “I don’t think Harry’s in any position to be writing checks. His guts are painting the wall.”

“No, no. Not Harry. Can’t squeeze blood from a stone or pounds from a gannet. I’m telling you, I shoulda been making a fortune.” He pointed back at the crime scene. “It’s my partner. She’s trying to cut me out. She's going to try and pin this on me somehow, you just watch.”

I drew a hand down over my face as if it would wipe away the headache he was causing me. It didn’t. “Whatever disputes you have with your partner, Robbie, you’ll have to handle it in court. I’m investigating homicides.”

“So, you’ll look into a vampire thing and leave me to fend for myself? Is that it?”

My hands clenched and unclenched as I forced myself not to imagine strangling him. “This isn’t a vampire versus fae thing, Robbie!”

“Four of my people disappear and BSI can’t lift a finger. One rich fang-mouth bumsucker bites it and the whole county descends like a pack of hungry vultures?” He shook his head. “I see how it is.”

“I’m looking into those cases,” I promised Robbie for what must have been the twentieth time. “I’m doing the best I can, but you and I both know we’re talking about natural transients, Robbie. Illegals.”

“Refugees,” he corrected. “Fleeing what they perceive to be an impending genocide in Faerie. This is America. It’s supposed to be the land of opportunity.” He spat on the floor between us. “That’s what I think of your opportunity, love. That fanged bitch? She set this all up. She’s trying to cut me out and now she’ll try to frame me or one of mine for this.”

I fished out my notebook and a pen. “Frame you for the murder? Why would you think she’d do that? So far there’s no evidence—”

Robbie cut me off. “Opportunity, right? Whoever did it had to be in the club tonight. Kim and all her people called in tonight and left me short staffed. Why do you think I outsourced muscle to your friend and his gang? Kim’s men usually handle security. Lo and behold, the one bloody time we actually need security, her trained professionals aren’t here.” He wagged an index finger in my face. “She knew something was going to go down. If you need a suspect, I’d start there.”

I scribbled furiously in my notebook when Robbie turned to go. “Wait,” I called after him. He paused and did a half turn, resting one wrist on his out turned hip. “Where would I find Kim and her people in off hours?”

“Protected by the pearly gates of her estate, no doubt,” Robbie said, waving a dismissive hand. “They have a couple hundred acres outside of town.”

“Thanks. And Robbie, I am looking into those disappearances.”

He gave me a pouty look. “I wish I believed you,” he said and then went off in a huff.

“He hounding you about those illegals?” I almost jumped out of my skin at the sound of Tindall’s voice behind me. He chuckled. “Jesus. Didn’t mean to scare you. Boy, Robbie’s got you all upset, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” I said, giving Tindall a clap on the shoulder. “I’m going to go on downstairs and see about those witnesses. Why don’t you wrap up things with the medical examiner?”

Tindall nodded. “Just stepped out for a breather. They’re, uh, trying to scrape up what’s left of Harry now.”

The thought made me gag. I nodded and headed for the spiral staircase to the lower level.

It wasn’t just Robbie’s protests getting to me. If his concerns were unfounded, I would have just shrugged it off and moved on. But his concern was real and so was the problem.

Over the last few months, the fae population in Paint Rock had swelled. Most of the new residents were family members of existing residents. They claimed they were refugees, fleeing some kind of fighting in Faerie. BSI thought differently.

Faerie was a dimension right next to—or on top of, depending on who you talked to—our own. It was inaccessible to humans and most fae kept to themselves. If you asked most people what kind of supernatural they’d rather have living next door, I guarantee you, hands down, they’d all choose some variety of fae. Most people thought all fae creatures are gentle and peace-loving when the description only applied to a minority.

Generally, few fae come to Earth. They preferred their own realm. But, when they did show up, a BSI agent’s prime directive was to track and register all supernaturals in a given area. I was trying, but a lot still slipped through, especially since so many had come illegally.

The reservation had a federally imposed cap on the number of residents I was obligated to enforce. I had been forced to go door to door with eviction notices for all the illegal fae. You can imagine how well it went over. The move was unpopular and created a large homeless fae population virtually overnight. Since the Paint Rock reservation was federal land and everyone who wasn’t documented had to leave, they had nowhere else to go but Eden. Robbie took in as many as were willing to work for him. Not just to strip, mind you. A place like Aisling needed bartenders, waitresses, cleaning staff, hostesses…He put them to work holding signs under a glamor if he had nothing else.

Say what you want about Robbie, but he had his good moments. I may not have liked him much. Didn't mean I couldn't respect what he was trying to do.

But some of them had gone missing. All four of the cases were dead ends due to lack of documentation. Until I got hits in the missing persons database, I had nothing other than word of mouth to chase them down. I just didn’t have the time, even with the extra help I’d taken on recently.

Some of my extra help was waiting for me. Saloso Silvermoon stood at the bottom of the stairs with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall. His plain black t-shirt clung to his arms and chest in all the right places to turn heads. Sal wasn’t good-looking enough to sell underwear in a magazine ad…but he was as close as anyone could come in Paint Rock.

When I stepped off the velvet lined, wooden staircase, he kicked off the wall. “How bad is it?” he asked, keeping pace with me.

“Bad, just like you said. Thanks for the call, by the way.”

“Anytime, babe. I saw Robbie head your way. Everything good?”

“As good as can be expected.” I stopped away from the small crowd of officers at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face him. “How much have you seen?”

He shrugged. “Smelled more than anything. The whole club stinks like…”

“Death?”

“Worse.” Sal shook his head. “Like someone’s opened a festering wound. They wouldn’t let me upstairs, but I don’t need to go there to know there’s a cold, dark energy at work here, Judah. It feels greasy, like frozen fish guts.” He gagged and then spat. A nearby cop made a face but didn't move to intervene.

I nodded. If anyone would know about bad magick at work, it would be Sal. On top of being a werewolf, he was also an apprentice to his uncle, a Shoshone medicine man. Sal had magick at his disposal, albeit in the realm of healing. Still, it never hurt to have the teeth and claws of a werewolf at my back. Unfortunately, I couldn’t bring Sal into the investigation. I could, however, always use another set of eyes and ears.