Aspen

by Skye Knizley

  Jynx made a face. “You’re as bad as my sister. You find something weird and immediately want to study it. Normal people flush weird shit down the toilet.”

  She turned away and reappeared at Aspen’s elbow with a pair of stoppered tubes. Aspen uncorked one and gathered as much of the material as she could from the wound. She then capped and labeled it for later identification. When she was finished she removed her goo-covered gloves and fished a device about the size of a smart phone from her kit. It flickered to life displaying the Automated Fingerprint Identification System logo and she pressed the victim’s thumb to the pad. It took a few moments for the system to connect in the storm, but then the victim’s information began to scroll across the screen.

  “Kristofer Martel, forty-two years old from Denver, Colorado. It looks like he did six years in the Marines before an honorable discharge,” she read aloud. “Current occupation is listed as investigator.”

  Jynx looked over her shoulder. “He was pretty good looking before tonight. Nice eyes.”

  Aspen pursed her lips. “According to this, that picture was taken two weeks ago when he renewed his license.”

  She put the AFIS reader back in her kit and looked at the body. “What happened to you, Kris?”

  Jynx shrugged. “What do we care? He’s dead, there is no evidence a critter was involved, it isn’t our business.”

  Aspen glanced at her. “I care because someone has to. The world is littered with people who were killed and left behind. They don’t have a voice so we have to give them one.” She turned to face Jynx. “Besides, it’s a weird one. My girlfriend would never let me forget it if I turned my back on a weird case.”

  Jynx cocked her head. “You have a girlfriend?”

  Aspen felt the blush rise in her cheeks. “I do. Sort of, anyway. It’s complicated, but I really wish she was here right now.”

  “I try to avoid complicated. I’ve had more boyfriends than I can count, when they get clingy I move on,” Jynx said. She yawned and turned away. “Good luck with the dead guy, I’m going back to bed.”

  “You aren’t the least bit curious?”

  Jynx shook her head. “Nope. Dead human, no critter, I am so not curious. All I want is a couple more hours’ sleep. Then I am going to check on Piper and see if we can move on from this dump and get back to the action. Laters.”

  Aspen watched her go, feeling lonelier than she had in some time.

  Dammit, Raven, I wish you were here, she thought.

  She turned back to the body and finished her examination, which led to little new information. There was something black under his fingernails which she scraped and added it to her small pile of evidence. She then searched the rest of the room. There was no sign of forced entry and no sign anyone had been in the room with Martel. It looked as if he had drunk some water from one of the plastic-wrapped cups in the bathroom, disrobed on his way back to the bed and collapsed. His clothes left a trail from the bathroom floor to the side of the bed.

  Aspen searched through his belongings, but found nothing but a wad of wet cash and an old rabbit’s foot keychain with the keys to his car. Not even a driver’s license or credit cards were present.

  She was putting his clothes in a laundry bag when a slim card fell out of his shoe and clattered to the floor, where it vanished beneath the bed. Aspen knelt and groped in the shadows until her questing fingers closed around the small rectangle and she pulled it into the light. It was a hotel keycard belonging to the St. Louis Four Seasons hotel. The room number had been written on the back in black marker: 343.

  Aspen slipped the key into an evidence bag and finished gathering Martel’s belongings. When she was done she locked the door and deposited the evidence in her own dresser before hurrying to the ancient Airstream parked behind the motel. Creek used the old trailer as both his home and office, freeing up space for any guests in need of the hotel’s handful of rooms. A light burned in the trailer’s porthole window and Aspen could hear the strains of Hank Williams through the door. She knocked politely and waited. Creek opened the door a moment later wearing nothing but an old pair of boxers. Aspen had seen uglier sights, but she couldn’t think where.

  “Whu’s up? Too early, ‘spen,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, Creek, something’s happened. The new guy… I found him dead in his room about an hour ago,” Aspen said.

  Creek’s brow furrowed and his face darkened. “Wha’ killed ’im?”

  “I don’t know yet. None of the usual suspects, but I don’t think it was natural causes. I’m going to look into it, though. Just give me a few days, okay?” Aspen asked.

  Creek folded his arms. “Not ‘skeeters or wolves, den? Not a critter you know?”

  Aspen shook her head. “No, nothing like that. If it was a monster of some kind, it is nothing I’m familiar with.”

  “Okay. Ye keep th’ skeeters out o’dis and do yer thing. I’ll take care of ‘im.”

  “Thank you, Creek. Michelle will be in this morning to cover the counter, I’ll get right on this.”

  Aspen started away, but was stopped by Creek.

  “Ye gonna call Raven?”

  Aspen looked over her shoulder at him.

  “She’s your Miss, right? Can’t hurt, ‘spen,” Creek continued.

  Aspen turned away and continued toward her room. “Maybe. I’ll let you know what I find.”

  Twenty minutes later she left her room dressed in one of the outfits she’d been given by Lady Valentina; Leather pants, leather jacket, and a white blouse matched with a pair of low-heel boots. Her cross and amulet hung around her neck and she’d pulled her violet hair into a ponytail that flowed down her back and kept it out of her face. Her pistol, a 10MM Javelina that had been a gift from Raven, was holstered uncomfortably at the small of her back.

  Dawn had come and the rain had stopped, leaving the air cool and crisp with a hint of the haze that would rise later in the day. Aspen couldn’t help but smile at the gentle pink sun hovering over the horizon. It was going to be a good day.

  “Where are you going?”

  Aspen turned to find Jynx standing behind her, a cup of coffee in her hand. She was fully dressed this time, with a clean tee shirt which read ‘Shit Just Got Real’ and her jeans tucked into western boots. Aspen suspected she had more weapons than Raven tucked about her person.

  “I was about to hitch a ride into town,” Aspen said.

  Jynx fished her keys out of her pocket and jingled them. “I’ll give you a ride. Visiting hours aren’t until this afternoon.”

  Aspen turned to face her. “Not that I’m looking a gift horse, but I thought you weren’t interested in Martel.”

  Jynx shrugged and started toward the black 1970 Dodge Charger parked in front of the diner. “I’m not. But I’m bored and you’re the only interesting thing around. Let’s go.”

  Aspen watched her for a second and tried not to laugh. Under her bravado and ‘I don’t care’ attitude was a woman with a good heart. She shook her head and climbed into the passenger side of the car, not surprised it smelled of tobacco, perfume and gunpowder, a mix that did, indeed, smell like strippers.

  The engine rumbled to life and Aspen settled back in her seat.

  “Where are we going?” Jynx asked as she guided the car into the street.

  “The Four Seasons, do you know where that is?”

  Jynx nodded. “Yeah. Pipe and I did a vampire that was feeding off guests in the spa. That’s a classy place, if Martel had a room there, what the hell was he doing at Creek’s?”

  “That’s a good question, and it’s part of the reason we’re going. There has to be a reason he wouldn’t drive the extra half hour to spend the night in a five star bed instead of a half star dive,” Aspen said.

  Jynx frowned and stomped on the gas. Miles flew past in a blur of early dawn traffic, fog and the rumble
of the Charger’s huge engine. Aspen rode in silence until they arrived at the Four Seasons, which was attached to one of the downtown casinos. Jynx drove slowly down Third Street and Aspen looked out at the huge hotel, which was one of the few five star locations in the city and the only one to offer views of the city’s famous arch. In the wee hours of the morning the mirrored structure glowed in the light of the pink morning sun and looked far more inviting than Aspen felt it should. It was a hotel, not a beacon of hope.

  Jynx parked the Charger in the overflow lot adjacent the hotel and looked at Aspen.

  “Now what? Are we just going to walk in and start asking questions?”

  Aspen fished in her equipment bag for her id. She slipped it into her jacket pocket and looked at Jynx. “Not exactly. Not yet, anyway. I’ve got the key to Martel’s room, I thought I would go upstairs and start poking around. Then I’ll ask questions. It always helps to know the right things to ask before you ask them.”

  She slipped out of the car and started across the street. She heard Jynx’s boot heels behind her and somehow found the younger woman’s presence comforting. She wasn’t Raven, who she could still feel miles away, but she was a friend and that counted.

  Aspen led the way down the narrow alley behind the hotel and stopped at the back service entrance. She mumbled a few words over the lock and it popped open beneath her fingers. She held the door for Jynx then closed it firmly behind them.

  “That’s handy,” Jynx said, looking around them. “You’ll have to teach me that one.”

  Aspen shrugged. “You’re part fae. All you have to do is learn Darkwood magik.”

  Jynx made a face. “No, thanks. This is your show, where to now?”

  Aspen looked around. They were in a corridor that smelled of cleaning products and sweat. The walls were grey and orange-painted cinder block and the floor was scarred linoleum that looked as if it had seen the footfalls of hundreds of tired workers, and probably had. The hallway stretched ahead and branched into several others into a maze of corridors and junctions behind the hotel. Aspen led the way, checking the small signs at junctions until she found a service elevator that took them to the third floor.

  The third floor stood out in dramatic contrast to the service corridors below. Here, the air was clean, lightly scented with vanilla and cinnamon. The floor was covered in thick blue carpet and the walls were hidden by textured wallpaper of light grey and blue. Black and white photographs of St. Louis were hung in expensive frames between the room doors and reproduction gas lamps flickered with flameless bulbs, casting shadows on the walls that marched up and down like toy soldiers.

  They were almost to Martel’s room when Aspen smelled the blood. She looked at Jynx, who met her eyes and drew a pistol from beneath her jacket. When she was ready, Aspen continued to the door and tested the latch. It rattled under her hand, but did not open. She slid the keycard into the slot and the lock opened with a click that sounded far too loud to Aspen, who glanced back into the hallway before pushing the door open and stepping aside. Jynx entered first with Aspen close on her heels.

  The room was large, one of the hotel’s mid-level suites with a short hallway that passed a large restroom and opened into the main living area. Two white leather sofas sat in the middle of a blue-carpeted room. A glass coffee table lay shattered in the middle of the room and a ceramic lamp had left an imprint in the grey and silver wall. It now lay broken on the floor at the base of the wall, its shade a torn mess. A woman, her face grey and drawn from blood loss, lay in the wreckage of the coffee table. A male corpse dressed in a dinner jacket and slacks, sat in the chair, his throat cut from ear to ear. His drying blood had stained the leather so thoroughly it looked as if it were burgundy rather than a cream that added contrast to the sofas

  Aspen followed Jynx into the two bedrooms, both of which were well appointed and looked as if they had been slept in, with askew sheets, pillows strewn on the floor and partially unpacked luggage. By the looks of things a man and woman had been sharing the larger of the two rooms while a single male had been sharing the smaller one. The larger room contained nothing of interest, however Aspen found a bag of equipment in the closet of the smaller room. The bag contained electromagnetic field readers, video cameras, night vision goggles, audio recorders and similar devices all neatly packed in a padded gear bag. The name on the bag was Kris Martel.

  Aspen placed the bag near the door then joined Jynx, who was examining the seated corpse.

  “His throat was cut,” Jynx said. “Clean, but too big to be a knife. Maybe a sword or hatchet, something like that.”

  “Claw,” Aspen said, barely looking.

  Jynx glanced at her then began searching the corpse’s pockets. “How do you know that?”

  “Experience. It’s a claw, but not lycan or vampire. Something smaller, but just as powerful.”

  Aspen bent to examine the woman, who looked as if she’d had a scant moment to react before a clawed hand punched through her chest. Her ribs glistened with blood through the ragged tear in her little black dress and the fabric was smeared with lung and heart tissue. It would have taken someone strong, maybe even stronger than Raven, to have caused such damage with a single blow.

  “I’ve got something,” Jynx said.

  She held up a wallet, keys, and pistol that she’d found on the dead man. “It says his name is Pedro Fernandez out of Kansas City. He’s got a concealed carry permit which is damn-near impossible to get out there.”

  Aspen took the pistol and examined it. It was a well-worn Glock, but it hadn’t been fired recently. Whatever had happened, he’d never had a chance to draw the weapon.

  She handed the weapon back to Jynx and bent to examine his wound. It looked as if there was something, bone perhaps, stuck in the wound. She was kneeling to get forceps and a sample container from her bag when the room’s door burst open and three thugs entered, weapons drawn. The leader was a large bald man with a pencil-thin mustache he no doubt thought made him look dashing. Aspen thought it looked like he’d been eating slugs and missed one. He, along with his team, was dressed in a black suit matched with a black tee shirt and combat boots. In his hand he held a short MP7 submachine gun while the others were armed with shotguns.

  “Put your hands up and step away from the bodies! Where is Martel?” he bellowed.

  “Who are you?” Aspen asked.

  The big man stepped closer and glared down at her. Aspen arched an eyebrow and stared right back.

  “I will ask the questions!” he thundered.

  His accent was Russian, but his breath screamed lycan.

  Aspen spread her hands. “He isn’t here, obviously. What is your interest?”

  The thug raised his hand and slapped her across the face. “I said I will ask the questions! Where is Martel?”

  Aspen wiped the blood from her mouth with the heel of her hand. She used the motion to hide the words of power she muttered under her breath. When she stood, she glared at the lycan and clenched her fist. His face turned from annoyance to concern and he coughed. He coughed again and staggered back, his hands reaching for a throat that suddenly wouldn’t draw breath.

  “If you raise your hand to me again,” Aspen growled, “I will squeeze the life from your body and leave you for the rats. My name is Aspen Kincaid-Tempeste, familiar of the House Tempeste. This is my friend Jynx. Do you have any more stupid questions or do you want to go away now?”

  Beside her, Jynx had drawn her pistols and now stood with them leveled at the other lycans, who were growling low in their throats. Aspen let go of the leader and folded her arms, hoping she smelled braver than she felt. She didn’t have near enough magik to take on three lycans at once, if they attacked at once, she and Jynx were in trouble.

  The leader straightened and rubbed at his throat, his eyes glowing yellow with fear and anger. “I had no idea you were emissaries of the House Tempeste
. You would be the familiar we’ve all heard about, then? The human belonging to Fürstin Ravenel?”

  Aspen felt her heart go cold. She had no idea anyone outside of immediate family knew who she was. Dammit, why couldn’t Valentina ever keep her mouth shut?

  “I am. Fürstin Storm is my Mistress and partner. I am not hear as an emissary, though. I am here on my own business,” she said.

  The lycan waved her comment away. “You are here and are a member of the House. Lady Blackwood will have to be notified. Perhaps you will be more willing to turn Martel over to her.”

  “I have no interest in Lady Blackwood, I am here on business that does not concern the House. Please offer her my best wishes when you return,” Aspen said.

  She heard the click of Jynx’s pistols.

  “You heard the lady. Run along now, maybe your owner will give you a doggie biscuit,” Jynx added.

  The lycan’s face darkened further. Aspen touched Jynx’s arm lightly and muttered, “Not helping!” in a sing-song voice.

  Jynx shrugged. “I don’t play well with the bastards that killed my family. You can go home to Mommy or you can die right here.”

  Aspen turned to her. “Really? You’re going to pick a fight with the Mistress’ lapdogs?” She glanced at the angry lycan. “No offense.”

  “None taken.” He cracked his knuckles, making the statement a lie.

  Aspen raised her hands and stood between the lycan and Jynx. “Jynx, we are not shooting our way out of here. Our lycan friends are going to let us go without a fuss and we’re all going to go about our business, okay?”

  Jynx kept staring at the lycan. “Is that true, fido?”

  Aspen threw up her hands in exasperation. “Will you stop antagonizing him? You’re worse than Raven!”

  “I do not wish to kill you, human. You are a friend of a Fürstin’s familiar. It could get… messy. But you will be learning some manners very soon,” the lycan said.

  He stepped aside and motioned for his people to do the same. Aspen smiled her thanks and looked meaningfully at Jynx, who looked like she wanted to start a fight anyway. After a moment she started for the door. Aspen followed, but paused in the hallway.