BSI: Bureau of Supernatural Investigation

By C.J. Pinard

Supernatural creatures have roamed the Earth since the beginning of time. There was a time when humans would not tolerate having vampires and other creatures in their midst, stealing their young and killing their fellow human beings. These humans took care of business with pitchforks, sharpened stakes, and fires. As the centuries passed, the supernatural creatures learned that they needed to hide in order to survive. As they did, humans evolved, and after a few decades, humans no longer believed the tales from mythology and folklore. Then the creatures became more bold again, showing themselves when they should have stayed hidden.

In 1945, the assistant director of the FBI suffered a horrible tragedy, which he learned later was supernaturally related. He created a small branch of the Department of Justice called the Bureau of Supernatural Investigation – the BSI. Little did he know that there were already men and women policing the world of the supernatural – or the "Fae." The only difference was that this other group had a huge advantage over the humans running the BSI; they were also immortal, just like the creatures they policed. Should the BSI and the Immortals work together to keep the peace?

Follow agents and Immortals from the four supernaturally busiest places in the country – San Francisco, Chicago, New Orleans, and Washington D.C. and watch the BSI evolve.

Vampires, shapeshifters, succubae, and Immortals. What is the Justice Department hiding?

BSI: Bureau of Supernatural Investigation is an accompanying novel to both the Enchanted Immortals series, the Ayla St. John Chronicles, and Death's Kiss series, and can be read between or at any time during these series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pin House Press, LLC
• Release date: Sep 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781536510041

C.J. Pinard

C.J. is a USA Today Bestselling author living in Colorado but wishes she was someplace warmer. She loves the SF 49ers and has a weakness for expensive shoes. She's the author of over 30 novels and short stories that contain both fantasy and paranormal romance with kickass heroines and strong alphas. When she's not writing, she can be found working at a very strange day job, which may or may not have some mild influences on her gripping stories--so strange, in fact, she may just write a book about it one day. She can be found on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and on her website, cjpinard.com

Book preview

PROLOGUE

∞∞∞

WASHINGTON, D.C. – 1945

It was 1 a.m. and the small pub was closing. The DC night was quiet and had died down, and he was spent. A long week of college classes and a part-time job in a small diner had left him purely exhausted.

He slipped out of Joe’s Tavern and looked both ways down the foggy street before making his way along the sidewalk. Dim orange streetlights barely lit his way, and every other one seemed to flicker, as if about to go out. The snapping of his shoes on the concrete was the only sound to keep him company. The quiet February night was cold and blustery, and the whiskey he’d consumed in the tavern was the only thing keeping him warm. He walked quickly past businesses, such as butcher shops and beauty shops. They were closed up tight for the night, and the weekend for that matter, and lay silent and dark as he passed. His breath turned to mist in the air as he hurried along. He pulled the collar of his beige trench coat up tighter around his throat as he walked with his head down. He only had five blocks to make it to his modest downtown apartment.

His father was a high-ranking government official in the FBI and was paid very well for his talents. As a World War I vet, his father had seen his share of horrors and dumped every last ounce of energy into his job at the FBI, fighting crime. He was well respected and valued amongst his civil service peers, supervisors, and subordinates.

He thought about his father and how much he, too, respected him. It was hard to grow up under such an iron fist, but he now realized that it was for his own good. His sister, Macy, had not fared as well with the strict discipline, but she, too, was finally outgrowing her rebellion and was doing well for herself, attending college in Connecticut to work in nursing.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice someone staggering out of the alley just ahead of him. The stranger dropped to the ground and lay still. He almost tripped over the bleeding man, stopping short.

He looked down at the man lying at his feet. Bleeding from the neck, he peered into the stranger’s face and realized he wasn’t a stranger at all. It was his fellow classmate, Ronnie, whom he recognized from his Political Science class. As he bent down, he noticed Ronnie’s neck was torn open and blood was gushing fast from his pulsing carotid artery. He pressed a hand to the wound and looked into Ronnie’s terrified face.

Ronnie! What happened?

Wheezing, Ronnie choked out, Paul, get out of here. Now, hurry, run.

Paul bent down and placed his face close to Ronnie’s mouth. What happened to you?

Ronnie’s eyes went big as he looked beyond his Good Samaritan friend at the figure standing behind him. He let out a gasp and then blacked out.

Paul felt a cold tingle of dread crawl on his flesh, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He slowly rose to his feet and very carefully turned around. Ronnie’s blood trickled off the palm of Paul’s hand and leaked down his fingertips, splattering the concrete in slow, fat drops. Standing behind him was a man—no, it couldn’t be a man, a man would have whites to his eyes. This... creature had solid black eyes with not a speck of white and had a set of fangs protruding from his mouth that would make a rattlesnake envious.

Paul gasped in horror and turned to run, but it was in vain. The creature snatched him up by the collar of his trench coat and yanked him backward, pulling him into an intimate embrace with Paul’s back to his assailant’s front.

Paul, frozen with fear, listened as the man—the creature—hissed in his ear. It will do you no good to run. You cannot outrun me. You cannot hide from me. I am stronger and faster than you, and you are nothing but a meal to me. He ended his tirade with a deranged laugh.

Before Paul could expel his last cry, the creature bit down into his neck. He wheezed into the dark, empty night until his whimpers stopped and his body lie motionless on the sidewalk next to his friend, Ronnie.

The creature—the vampire—sped off into the night at preternatural speed, laughing and sated.

Chapter 1

∞∞∞

WASHINGTON, D.C. – 1945

The massive boardroom was set in front of a plate glass window on the third floor. He distributed a stack of papers, setting them neatly in front of each chair around the table. The meeting was to start in ten minutes, and he was especially anxious about this one.

Jim Blackwell, Assistant Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, a sub department of the newly formed U.S. Department of Justice, was going to blow the minds of the six individuals invited to this meeting. A meeting that would change everything they thought they knew about the world.

Three months ago, Jim had received the phone call every parent dreaded. His son, Paul Blackwell, had been murdered three blocks from his apartment on his way home from a tavern one night. As if the devastation of that news wasn’t enough, his death was very suspicious, and as of now, still unsolved.

Well, it was according to the Washington D.C. Police Department.

Jim’s grief let him do little else but search for his son’s killer. One day, while Jim was poring over police reports and photos, General Alexander Frost, a high-ranking military official stationed in New Mexico, came into his office, catching Jim in an especially rare, vulnerable moment.

Sir, a word? General Frost said.

Jim looked up from his notes and reports, a pained expression across his handsome features. He looked at the five-star General, in his perfectly pressed uniform, which was spattered with numerous and medals. General Frost's hair and moustache matched his name, white as snow.

Jim stood and went around the desk to shake the his hand. General, this is a surprise. Please, have a seat.

The General nodded and removed his cap, sitting as instructed. Mr. Blackwell, I’m here about your son.

Jim couldn’t hide his surprise. Is that so? What’s the military’s interest in my son’s murder?

The General ignored the question and simply replied, I think you’re going to want to hear this.

Jim leaned forward, his hands folded on his desk. Okay...?

General Frost’s usually confident demeanor wavered a little bit, bordering on sheepish. Jim this is going to will require that you keep somewhat of an... open mind.

I’m all ears, General. I just want to find out what happened to Paul and get the son-of-a-bitch who killed him, he said, clearing his throat to stay the sob that wanted to jerk up out of his chest.

The General nodded. Well, sir, first I need to ask: Do you know what kind of work we do at our base in New Mexico?

Jim thought for a minute, then replied, Yes, you do tests on aircrafts, and I hear you do some top-secret investigations regarding craters in the earth out there.

Yes. All of that is true, but there are a very small number of us who are in charge of investigating... the strange and unusual. It’s our job to keep things that Americans cannot make sense of away from the public eye.

Jim cocked his head to the side, interested, but serious. Such as?

The General looked hesitant. Open mind, right, Jim? At his nod, the General took a deep breath. Extraterrestrial sightings, succubae, werewolves, shapeshifters, and vampires.

Jim let a mirthful laugh. C’mon, General, be serious with me here. I can handle it.

General Frost measured Jim with a grave look. I am being serious.

At the General’s silence, Jim’s smile fell and all the blood drained from his face. You aren’t joking, are you? The General shook his head and Jim swallowed hard. Tell me everything, Alexander. Everything.

That was three months ago. As Jim Blackwell looked around the boardroom, he spotted his chosen five: His two highest ranking FBI agents, Adam Swift and Gary Hall, and the three Special Agents in Charge (or SACs) of the three (supernaturally) busiest areas of the country: San Francisco, Chicago, and New Orleans.

All the agents silently stared at Jim as the boardroom door opened and General Frost walked in carrying a large metal suitcase. Jim smiled, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. He smoothed back his short black hair, then put his hands in the pockets of his suit pants.

General Frost, thank you for coming, Jim said.

The General removed his hat and nodded at Jim, silently coming to stand next to him.

Jim started, Gentlemen, thank you for coming to this meeting. Today, we’re here because as Assistant Director, I’ve received permission to start a new sub-branch of the DOJ. It’s going to be called ‘The Bureau of Supernatural Investigation’ and you five have been chosen to be a part of it.

The group let out a gasp and began murmuring amongst themselves.

Jim held up a hand. "Look, I know it sounds strange, but please hear us out. By the end of this meeting, not only will you have hard proof that we have a great need for this branch, you will feel the swell of pride knowing you’ll be part of making history.

As many of you know, my son Paul was murdered six months ago here in DC. His killer is still at large, and I now believe—no, I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt—that he was killed by a vampire.

The SAC of the Chicago office, a young man named Al Cartwright, snorted in disagreement. C’mon, Jim, with all due respect, I think your grief is clouding your logic here.

Let me show you something, Al. Jim went to the suitcase the General had brought, entered a code into the scrolling lock, and the suitcase unlocked with a click. He raised the lid and pulled out a brown paper sack about the size of a bowling ball, although it appeared to be quite light. He set the sack on the boardroom table and carefully removed its contents. He held up a clean, bony human skull, careful to keep it from dropping.

What in the hell is that? Al asked, mortified.

The only difference the skull held from a normal one was a large set of fangs where the eyeteeth should be. They were still very sharp.

This, Al, is a vampire skull. The General and his men at the base in New Mexico collect these types of things. He turned to face the military man. General Frost, where did you get this particular skull?

The General cleared his throat. "A few of my airmen were out on the town one night and this thing attacked one of them. He pointed at the skull. One of my airmen used his service weapon to shoot the thing. He put the body in