"Move over Lara Croft -- Jaden Michaels is the
quintessential heroine of the twenty-first century,
full of heart and totally
lethal! Get ready because Justice
Incarnate is one thrilling ride!"
~Bestselling suspense author Debra Webb
"This
was a fantastically wonderful story. The
tension and mystery were both built to a perfect level
and maintained throughout the length
of the book. Ms. Black brought her
intricate world and the
characters to believable life and
spun a tale of cliff hanging suspense. I
could not put it down. It is well worth another
read."
~Coffee Time
Romance
"…a change of pace… It intrigued me, surprised me, and made me
think. …an interesting and inventive
plot twist...
Bravo for coming up with a unique approach to the age old 'he done me
wrong now I want revenge' theme.
I highly recommend this very short but
extremely enjoyable and memorable read."
~Fallen Angels Reviews
Justice Incarnate
Echelon
Press Publishing
This is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents are products of the author's imagination or are
used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,
organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Echelon Press
9735 Country
Copyright © 2005 by
R. Bailey
ISBN: 1-59080-386-8
www.echelonpress.com
All rights
reserved. No part of this book may be
used or reproduced in any m
First Echelon Press
paperback printing: February 2005
Cover Artist:
Nathalie Moore
Editor: Kat
Thompson
Printed in
I'm blessed and grateful for every person God put in
my path at just the right time to bring my dreams to life. Thanks to you all for the encouraging words
and limitless belief. And
to the hero of my heart, my Mark: for every time you picked me up, dusted me
off, and convoluted my plot plans - I couldn't have done it without you!
Chapter One
"There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the root."
–Henry David Thoreau
Jaden Michaels splashed the last of her best Merlot
into the only clean glass in the kitchen.
Presentation didn't matter when a woman only needed to rinse the taste
of a poor lover from her lips.
And poor he'd been. She'd almost been able to catch up on her
sleep as he bounced rhythmically. But the indulgence would've cost her a source of invaluable
information.
Bouncy-boy reported to another in the criminal food
chain, this one with enough clout to bring her closer to her target.
She swirled the wine in the glass and her mind flashed
with timeless, bloody memories. She
tossed it back and imagined the day when she could rest. She prayed this life would break the cycle.
The wine at last relieved her of the stale taste of
her informant. He needed advice in the
sex department, but Jaden wouldn't waste her time. She'd probably serve him better by teaching
him to defend himself against the wrath of dissatisfied
women. On the off chance one of them
would care.
She stripped the sheets from her bed, unwilling to
sleep amidst the smells of a sweaty bar fly.
Cocooning herself into a clean blanket she closed her eyes, willing her
elusive quarry to behave himself tonight.
Then the crying began. The frightened, jittery tears of an innocent
child pushed into a new world of horrors.
Naturally, he couldn't be less than the demon he was.
The bastard.
Jaden had tried for years to tune out the echoes of
pain and terror that sounded in her mind each time he struck. She'd even grown cold enough to sleep through
the attacks occasionally, if the new victim happened to be too shocked to do
more than whimper. But
she knew anyway.
Her body harbored the same residual grief in the
morning. It's what fueled her to keep
slugging her way through the bottom dwellers, the middlemen, the lieutenants
and bodyguards until she could take the head off the beast–permanently.
The cries escalated as the current victim
panicked. "No sleep tonight."
She rolled from bed and crossed her apartment to
work off her useless fury.
This unbreakable connection between the demonic
entity living as the Honorable Stewart Albertson and her would only cease when
he did. And he
wouldn't cease his perverse brand of torture without her help. Her violent, fatal brand of help.
Jaden punctuated each thought with a kick or punch
into the bag. Not a fan of the technical
marvel of today's electronic sparring partners, she kept an antique,
sand-filled bag of 120 kilos. She liked
the challenge it gave her body, the technology would've spoiled her. Besides, if she needed a sparring partner, she
could just hit the streets.
She lunged into an uppercut, sending the bag
swinging. Then the girl shrieked and
Jaden froze. But
the bag finished its arc and knocked her to the floor.
"Damn you," she hissed, rubbing her head
where the weighted canvas connected.
"You'll pay for this Albertson.
The moment I find you, this time you'll pay with your soul."
Wasn't that the same thing
she'd been vowing for centuries? To make him
pay for all the evil he'd committed against her and countless others. The same evil she'd failed to dispatch for
all these centuries.
In every life she'd come up against him. Never really knowing him until it was too
late. Until she was the girl screaming
for mercy. Until she was the woman too
terrified to whisper. Until in the lacy
light of predawn she recognized an ageless predator; recognized her greater
purpose and vowed to expose him. To
exact justice.
"For all the good that's done."
Here she sat, a martial artist bested by a sandbag,
while he continued to wreak havoc on innocence and purity. Nearby, if the volume in her head was any
indicator.
She'd searched the neighboring warehouses and failed
to find his current house of horrors.
She knew his home address. She'd
snuck into his chambers at the courthouse more than once. She'd even had opportunity to cut him down,
but had hesitated.
"Coward."
Jaden stood, knowing the lie for what it was. Frustration and fatigue. Moving her body through a soothing yoga
routine she reviewed the facts.
Her hesitation had not stemmed from cowardice. Sure, an armed deputy had accompanied him,
but death wasn't a scary unknown to her.
She'd aborted her rash attack at the sight of his daughter. How much should one child suffer?
"Dunno?
How much?"
Jaden whirled, furious that she'd spoken aloud, more
so that she hadn't heard the 'friendly' intruder.
"
"I used the key you gave me."
"I didn't give you a key," Jaden said,
glaring at her not-so-reformed burglar friend.
"Does it really matter? I'd never rip from you, kid."
"Thanks.
I think."
His bark of laughter made her jump.
"So how much should one child suffer? And why do we w
Jaden ground her teeth. "Children shouldn't suffer at
all." Innocence should be guarded, especially in this wide-open,
free-for-all time.
"Whatever.
It's late, what d'you want?"
"Got a live one here, Jade."
She shrugged and filled a glass with water, trying
not to notice the murky color. She'd lived how many lives?
A little pollution wouldn't hurt.
Not much anyway.
"C'mon, babe.
Show a little interest?"
She swallowed.
"Fine.
Spoil my fun. But he's got cold
cash and a bunch of frightened mules."
She shrugged.
"Female mules."
This era 'juiced' its men with a human growth
hormone cocktail for war's sake and women from all walks of life suffered from
the physical iniquity. Jaden gave her
time and expertise in an effort to balance the scales.
Employing the combat conditioning she'd originally learned at the turn of the twenty-first century, she taught women how to protect themselves regardless of physical differentials.
"What are they afraid of?"
"Like that'd help."
"Look, if you want more money to stuff your
mattress, make the call."
Jaden shook her head. She wanted more money all right. But not to squirrel
away. She wanted money to fund her
research into the perfect weapon to dispatch one particular evil entity. And paying the rent
on time wouldn't hurt, either.
After the interruption, Jaden tried to meditate to
clear the girl's pain from her psyche.
Successful at last, but unwilling to risk sleep, she resumed her
Internet search for legendary weapons.
Swords, axes, stars, and blades of every metal and
configuration. Guns small and large,
silver bullets valued only because of an early author's imagination. Rare and common poisons delivered in a
variety of ways.
She sighed.
The piece she needed had to be somewhere.
Scrolling through the sludge of information she
already knew, a surprising teaser popped up.
It advertised a new acquisition on display at the
A bitter laugh spilled from her.
She was on display.
Or rather, one of the earlier versions of
her. A distinct shiver ran down her
spine as she faced her past.
This woman's rare brand of true compassion during the Victorian era hid
an alternate personality, not unlike Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Though it would seem
from her diary that this fair lady sought to avenge wrongs rather than wreak
havoc...
Naturally the article continued, for a modest fee,
or interested parties could visit the exhibit in person. Jaden didn't need to read on. She knew the darkest of the details
intimately. But
a personal visit...well, that could be worthwhile. Especially knowing she wasn't the only
Donning her black catsuit and a cloak to guard against the night chill, Jaden strapped on matched daggers at wrist and ankle. Securing the electronic code-breaking card at the small of her back she felt ready to face the jungle of the street.
She'd had ample time to wonder precisely when her
perpetual opponent gained his past life memories. At the moment of
attacking her? Or
at the moment she struck him down?
In this most recent incarnation, her increased
sensitivity forced her to consider that his skills might be changing too.
The new and improved elevated train rumbled along
above her, but she preferred the street for moods and tasks like hers
tonight. And
she'd never quite trusted the el, having seen it constructed all those years
ago. Jaden stumbled as the flash of old
memories veiled her current reality.
"Watch it witch," a raspy voice threatened
from the gutter.
Close enough, she thought, in both his advice and
labels as she walked on.
"You need an escort."
She ignored the bogus offer, focused on her
destination and purpose.
"Wasn't a question," the street rat
persisted, falling into step beside her and earning Jaden's full attention.
She knew she could take him, or any other
challengers. But
something in his stance, his eyes, made her wary on another level. A flash of familiar came and went. A closer look only showed he wasn't stoned and
the normal haze of scorn for a stranger was absent.
"I'm good.
Just passing through."
"There's a price for that."
She knew all too well there was a price for
everything. Just stepping outside could
cost anything from a cell card to a life these days.
She turned to face him. "And you're the collector?"
He shrugged and sneered. "Seems like."
"So state your fee or get outta
my way." She wanted that diary
before her cursed nemesis destroyed it.
"In a hurry, pretty
girl? Hmmm." He eyed her lazily. "Guess I should tag along and take my
cut from whatever you want so bad you'll risk the street to get it."
She thought of killing him.
One sweep of hand to throat and he'd be gurgling in
the gutter where no one would give half a damn when they found him in the
morning.
She thought of using him.
A bold, sober, and not entirely stupid man might be
helpful tonight. Quickly she rearranged
her original break-in plan.
"If you can keep up, you can claim one
item."
"Oh, baby, how can I refuse?"
He ran a grimy finger over her shoulder and she
squashed the urge to break his arm, instead resuming her course. He'd soon learn she wasn't on the list of his
possible 'rewards'.
As they approached the museum, her companion earned
an ounce of Jaden's respect. He was
smart enough to keep quiet. But when his steps slowed, putting him directly behind her,
she spun around and instinctively dropped into a defensive crouch.
"Ease up, baby." He raised his hands slowly. "I'm just looking for the easy way
in."
Jaden stood up, impatient with every moment of
delay. "This is my game. You're only along for the ride."
"Don't I know it." He leered at her breasts. "But–"
"Nothing," she finished for him. "I'll get you in, and out if you're quick
about your decisions."
"I've decided." He stepped closer and reached for her.
She whipped her foot out, connecting with the inside
of his knee. Following him to the
ground, she muffled his pained cry with her hand on his mouth and her knee on
his chest.
"I pulled that kick. You're not permanently damaged." His eyes grew wide and wild. She tried not to enjoy his panic. "I have business here. I'll open the door. You walk in, choose your piece
and get out. We'll have three
minutes. If you're not out before me,
you'll be on trial by eight and in jail by
At least some things improved with time. The courts and prisons were still
over-crowded, but this society dealt with 'Clear Crimes' swiftly. Cops processed evidence in real time, on
scene. Finding this street rat in the
museum would be enough for an instant conviction and thirty days of behavior
modification injections.
"You afraid of needles?"
He shook his head.
"You will be." She hauled him to his feet, granting him a
moment to find his balance. "Three
minutes."
Following the shadows around the loading docks,
Jaden readied her code breaker. She
waved the card in front of the sc
Infinitely.
Yet another minute ticked by, giving her ample time
to cross this particular 'hack-rabbit' off her good list. If his codes were old, or worse, compromised,
she'd be hard pressed to avoid a month of needles
herself.
If she lived through dispatching her enemy this
time, she just might champion prisoner rights and the call to do away with the
cruel needles. There were better
delivery options...
The lock clicked, whirred and the door slid back on
hushed tracks, putting the prized possessions of history at her fingertips.
And gimpy boy's too.
She cringed, inwardly, hoping he was in too much
pain to take anything priceless. She
disabled the remaining alarm systems to prevent any surprises from security.
"Better hustle," she advised, dashing off
on her own.
Her cape billowing behind her, Jaden loped through
the various galleries to the nearest marble stairwell, taking the steps two at
a time.
Exercising restraint, she stayed her course despite
the siren's call of the Medieval Weapons and Armament gallery. She could always return as an ordinary
citizen during standard business hours and pore over each curator's note and
battle-scarred blade. Again.
She rounded a corner and praised heaven to see the
diary still in place. The dress and
trunk, which bore a previous life's initials, didn't warrant more than a
fleeting glance. She needed the book. It might hold clues that could save her
months of research. And
every day saved meant another girl spared.
"Now that's worth my while."
Startled from her private hell, Jaden turned to see
her unwelcome companion eyeing a case of jewelry. He could have it. It hadn't done her any good then and she had
no need of it now.
"One piece," she reminded him, using a
dagger to pry open the diary's case.
"Clock's ticking." She
smiled at gimpy boy's dread and ran for her freedom.
And her cause.
She paused at the security panel only long enough to
reset the alarm systems. Rubber soles
squeaked on the marble floor somewhere inside, but she had other business. Outside, she took her first real breath and
then made the call.
"I'm certified in a dozen different self-defense
methods," the woman stated.
"I only need one," the man replied in
bored tones.
"Which is?" she asked.
"The most lethal. Turn."
The conversation went static for two seconds before
the detective listening to the wireless tap found it again.
"Uh-huh."
She paused. "Hand-to-hand or
weapons?"
"Hands only.
If I arm 'em, they'll turn."
The detective noted date, time, and frequencies and
began speculating on the woman's identity.
He signaled his partner to pick up the second headset. They both listened.
"When and where?" the woman asked.
"My place.
Late."
"Fine.
You'll see me when the money's clear.
Turn."
The connection fizzled. The detective scrambled, but lost the
continuing conversation.
"Damn.
That's it?"
Larry Ferguson was more hopeful than his
sour-stomached partner. "It's more
than we've had on Slick Micky before."
"Ain't enough," Chuck Loomis groused.
"Let's run it for the DA and see what he
thinks." Larry ignored the doom and
gloom of his partner and did what he could to buff the recording. If he could find a single locator clue, the
DA would jump on it. Better, if he
nailed the woman's ID the DA would write the reference Larry needed to get promoted out of this sorry detail.
"Hey, Chuck.
Check out this short list of female self defense instructors."
Chuck swiveled around, sc
"I don't think so. She–"
"She knew when and how to change ch
"Maybe."
"Larry, you're a good kid, but let me dash your
hopes right now. These days ya got a
better chance marrying the chief's daughter than moving up and outta this tin can.
Now put the ears back on and find us a real crime we can prevent."
Larry ignored the barb about the youngest bachelor chief in
"Yee haw."
Chuck yawned as he settled his over-regulation bulk into the driver's
seat.
Larry tracked the burglar's progress from gallery to
gallery while listening to the chatter of the robotic security drones in
pursuit. "He's hurt, Chuck. This collar'll be a
breeze."
"Don't count your chickens, kid."
"What the hell's that mean?"
"It's some farm thing my granddad said."
"You've seen a family farm? You are an old-timer."
"Aw, shut up.
Where do we pick up this thief?"
"He's made a cut for the northeast exit."
"Where's security?"
"I'll clue 'em
in," Larry said while Chuck grumbled about the perils of technology.
He disagreed with Chuck's hardened view of society
in general and their job in particular. But his partner had a point about the flaws of the new
totally robotic security systems.
Twentieth century sci-fi had inspired inventors, but the same stories
messed with the lackluster vision of legislators, leaving no loopholes to
create a thinking machine.
"You'd think the
Larry ignored his peevish partner and continued to
ready the evidence kit.
Jaden saw the mottled gray police unit barreling
down the street and sighed. If she let
the street rat take the fall for her burglary, she'd have joined the ranks of
the despicable thing she hunted. As she
organized her explanation to enable his escape a bright flash came from the
Museum side of the street.
Instinct had her tucked and rolling out of danger as
the driver of the evidence van fought for control with a laser-melted front
tire.
How in the hell did a smart aleck street rat land a
police-issue pursuit-stopping device?
When the raucous scrape of metal on asphalt ceased,
she came to her feet and stared at the van.
It lay on its side with black clouds of electrical smoke rising from the
rear. Watching the driver stumble from
the wreck, she turned for home. But when his agonized bellow carried above the screeching of
the alarms, Jaden felt the pull of the driver's desperation.
Mindful of the diary, she approached. Keeping her hands visible, she moved with
caution born of several hard lessons.
The cop looked as hopeless as a drowning victim. She didn't intend to let him drag her under.
He ranted and wrestled with the crumpled door, too
busy to worry about her.
Jaden didn't need cohesive conversation to
understand there was another man trapped inside. Evidence processing equipment was expensive,
but not priceless. It gave her weary
spirit a lift to see how frantic one man could be to save another.
Leaving him to his battle, she put her dagger to
work on the hinges of the door. Between
adrenaline and training, the door gave way and the cop outside pulled the
inside man clear of the burning van.
Familiar enough with death, Jaden knew they were too
late, and she wished for tears enough to weep over the loss. One bold street rat bent on escape just cost
a man's life.
Everything has
a price.
The echoing words taunted her. Then she recognized the dead man. "Larry," she gasped.
The surviving partner heard and turned on her. "What do you know about him? About this?"
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her while she
tried to recall his name.
"Chuck.
Chuck, ease up buddy," she said through rattling teeth.
"Who the hell are you?" Chuck
demanded.
"Jaden Michaels–"
"The security specialist? This was some miserable test run?"
She wouldn't take the easy way out–couldn't. Not with Larry's blood staining the
street. "No, no test. It must've been a real call."
"And you just magically appear during a real
call? This was some damned department
party. Well I hope they're slaphappy
about it. I'm a man short and he was a
good one. He had a future."
His fingers bit into her shoulders, taking her body
back to another man, a different sort of attack. In a blur, she broke his hold and caught
herself before she landed the follow-through punch.
"Take a step back, Chuck. You're upset.
When you see the download, you'll feel better." It pained her to lay blame on Larry, but she
offered the most likely scenario. "If
Larry wasn't buttoned down, it's no one's fault."
Chuck's face reddened and she saw his pulse
accelerate in the jump of a blood vessel in his temple. "I know what a lasered
tire feels like. And
I know how and where to look for evidence, Michaels. Get the hell outta
my face before I do something real stupid."
The adrenaline made her itch for the fight he
offered. But
pushing her luck here and now put the diary at risk and muddied her true
path. She left the messy scene in
Chuck's capable hands and replayed the events in her mind.
She hoped the street rat made the best of his good
fortune. She'd count her blessings to never
cross paths with him again.
The ache began as a slow burn in her stomach and
climbed painfully toward her heart with every step away from the collateral
damage. She knew her normal cool
detachment would eventually return, but prayed it would hurry.
She could've spared the street rat a month of
prickly injections by providing a cover story, especially with Larry on the
case. Hell, she never should've let the
street rat into the museum at all. She'd
been around often enough to have developed better judgment.
"Ah, don't beat yourself up."
She gasped.
"Quit sneaking up on me, Cleveland."
"Pay more attention," he countered.
"I've paid enough as it is." Jaden made a valiant effort to control her
sorry mood. "How'd you find
me?"
"Anyone with a sc
She knew she paled because
"I meant anyone who knows you and has a sc
"Funny."
No one really knew her.
"What do you want?"
"I'm your escort to your next appointment."
"My next appointment's with my pillow."
"Tempting as that image is," he said,
wiggling his brows. "You've got a
class first."
"How'd you know anything about that?"
He swung an arm over her shoulder and guided her
around a corner away from her own place.
"I'm the only trusted soul on the street, my fair Jaden."
"You've been watching the history ch
"Nope. But I've been through a museum or two lately. You should go. Get you some culture," he teased.
She glared at him.
"Ouch girl, don't give me the hairy eyeball
just 'cuz you screwed up."
She glared more, but at the ground this time. "He wasn't strapped in. Couldn't've
been." Completely unlike the Larry
she'd worked with for years.
"Follow protocol or die, I always say."
"Protocol!"
He opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace,
taking this one moment to grieve the unnecessary loss. She backed away, automatically checking for
the diary and daggers. True to his word,
"Told you I wouldn't," he said.
She smiled, feeling better. "Guess there's good reason you're the
only trusted soul on the street."
"Yup."
He grinned. "You live above
it."
She shrugged off the odd compliment. "Whatever. Let's get this gig over. I've got things to do. Like sleep.
If you're the escort, show me proof of the transfer."
He pulled the slim black remote from his inside
pocket. The monitor showed the agreed
amount ready to transfer to the account of her choosing. She made
"Done," she said, handing the remote back
to him. "Lead on, oh trusted
one."
He replaced the remote and wrapped her hand around
his arm, a chivalrous move she hadn't seen in ages. "Such lovely company in the past. Wouldn't you agree?"
She made herself chuckle. She hoped the past would be her friend and
provide the answer to get her soul 'unstuck'.
She was tired of battle and desperate to break the cycle. She couldn't fail to banish the evil this
time. She wasn't sure she had the
strength to live again.