Aspen

by Skye Knizley

  The man, who bore the unlikely moniker Bailey Thatcher, had stopped and was now standing with a group of similarly clad men beneath an old oak tree. The leader, an older man with greying hair and a scar that pulled his right cheek into a frown stepped forward and held up a hand.

  “Lady Tempeste, a word, if you please,” he said.

  Raven stopped and held up her badge. “Raven Storm, Chicago Police. Your friend there is wanted for questioning in the murder of Nina Starr. Step away!”

  “Nina Starr was a criminal, Lady Tempeste. She was dealt with in accordance with our justice, and it is justice that we seek. Tell me, where is Aspen-Fyre?” he asked.

  Raven frowned. “Look, pal, I’m the one with the badge, I’m the one who gets to ask the questions. Who are you and what do you know about the death of Nina Starr?”

  The man shook his head. “You do not seem to understand, Lady Tempeste. Your badge holds no authority over us, nor is Nina Starr any of your concern. Where is Aspen-Fyre, child of Willow? We know you have taken her in.”

  Raven stepped forward and glared at the leader. “I’m not going to argue with you. Either you answer my questions or I drag you down to the station and book you for annoying me after a long stake-out of a not so nice diner. I think I have food poisoning just from looking.”

  The man held her gaze a moment then bowed. “As you wish. We are the Gallowglass, keepers of the law. Nina Starr was a wanted criminal, the man you know as Bailey is her lawbringer and executioner.”

  “Never heard of you. In this city, the police and the courts are the keepers of the law, not you,” Raven said.

  The leader smiled again. “Even if the villain is something other than human?”

  Raven thumbed back the hammer on her pistol. “Then it’s me, by the authority granted by the Mistress of the City. It sure as hell isn’t a bunch of vigilantes in matching uniforms. As far as I know, Nina Starr was human and was shot in cold blood by your friend there. He is under arrest, as are you if you get in my way.”

  The leader cocked his head. “You are not what I expected, Ravenel Tempeste. I had heard that you valued justice—”

  “Killing a woman walking home from work is not justice, it’s murder. Final warning, move or be arrested,” Raven grated.

  The leader shrugged. “I cannot let you take one of my men and subject them to human laws. Do not force us to defend him.”

  His hand moved toward the weapon at his waistband and Raven covered his nose with the barrel of her pistol. “I don’t think you want to do that. Put your hands on your head and be still. The rest of you, kneel and put your hands on your heads.”

  The leader paused, then nodded once at his men. “Ti ya’ amame! Do as she says.”

  Raven waited until they were all on their knees then stepped back to dial Levac and call in the cavalry. In that split second the Gallowglass were up and had pistols in hand. By the way they were standing, Raven knew they were more than capable of using them.

  The leader smiled, a cocksure gesture that Raven wanted to punch. “Surrender, Lady Tempeste, and tell us where Aspen-Fyre is. You need not die today.”

  Raven held her pistol, but lowered her phone. “What do you want with Aspen?”

  The leader shook his head. “That is our concern, not yours. Where can I find her?”

  Raven felt her anger and blood boiling but kept her face neutral. “Aspen is my friend and familiar. Anything about her is my concern. Even if I knew where she was, I wouldn’t tell you. If you lower your weapons and surrender I promise your jail cell will have the hardest beds in the city.”

  The leader shook his head sadly. “Your reputation precedes you, Lady Tempeste, but I think you are braver than you are capable. I did not wish to do this, but…”

  He nodded at his men and Raven blinked. Her monster roared in her head and she moved, dodging the first shots unleashed by the Gallowglass and raising her own weapon. She shot two through the forehead and rolled to relative safety behind the very tree that had been sheltering them from the sun. The corpses smoked and exploded into sparks that fell around her like glimmering snowflakes, an effect that made Raven’s skin crawl. Death shouldn’t be pretty.

  Bullets tore at the tree and at Raven’s jacket, making her wince in pain, but she held her ground. The Automag barked in response and another of the Gallowglass fell, clutching at the wound in his chest before fading away on the wind.

  “There’s only two of you left,” Raven called. “You and Bailey. Lay down your weapons and surrender.”

  “Impressive, Lady Tempeste. More impressive than I expected, in fact,” he said.

  There was a strange noise, like bubblegum popping, and the leader appeared behind her. Raven spun in surprise and his hand closed around her wrist with more strength than she’d have thought such a lithe figure could hold.

  “But you cannot defeat us. Tell me where Aspen-Fyre is and I will spare you,” he snapped.

  Raven winced in pain and dropped her pistol as the bones in her wrist cracked and splintered beneath his grip.

  “That’s some grip you’ve got there. I bet you go through a lot of stress balls, huh?”

  The leader’s lip curled in disgust and he leaned close enough Raven could see the spinach stuck in his teeth. “Your bravado is wearing, dhampyr. Where. Is. Aspen-Fyre!”

  He punctuated each word with a squeeze to her injured wrist and Raven knew the bones were pulped beyond uselessness. But she’d faced tougher things than a bunch of thugs in matching jackets. She rammed her forehead into his face as hard as she could, then raised her knee into his groin with enough force to pulp his genitals and make him vomit in pain. He let go and fell to his knees, both hands clamped to his crotch. She kicked him in the face for good measure then picked up her weapon and held it in a left-handed grip. She was turning to look for Bailey when she heard the thud of his pistol and felt the heat of a bullet pass through her thigh. She fell to the ground beside the leader and lay still, her weapon hidden by her body. She could hear Bailey moving closer and lay quiet.

  “Alfrigg, are you all right?” he asked.

  Raven rolled and leveled her pistol at him. “He’s better than you’re going to be if you don’t drop that weapon.”

  Bailey raised his weapon and Raven squeezed her pistol’s trigger. It bucked in her hand and she watched the bullet punch through his face a split second before he exploded and showered her with sparks.

  When it was over, she lay back on the grass and let her body heal. She could hear sirens and knew the cavalry was coming.

  She opened her eyes a few minutes later to see Rupert Levac standing over her, weapon in hand. As usual, he had a three days’ growth of beard on his chin, mustard on his tie and was huddled in his threadbare London trench coat that smelled of cheeseburgers, but she was happy to see him nonetheless.

  “You missed the fun,” she said.

  Levac holstered his pistol. “You didn’t call for backup. Again.”

  Raven sat up and looked at the wound in her thigh. It had stopped bleeding and was beginning to heal, which meant she would need claret in the near future. “I tried to call, this bastard wouldn’t let me.”

  Levac squatted beside the recumbent figure. “Who is this bastard and where, exactly, is our suspect?”

  Raven jerked a thumb at the tree. “Our suspect is that pile of ash by the tree. This bastard is the guy who told him to kill Nina Starr and, incidentally, to harass me and hunt Aspen.”

  Levac made a face. “They weren’t vampires though, so what were they?”

  Raven shook her head. “No clue. Some sort of sorcerers, I would guess. This one full-on teleported behind me and turned my wrist into jelly with one hand.”

  Levac looked at her. “What, like…teleported, teleported? Comic book style? Isn’t that impossible?”

  Raven shrugged. “I can only tell y
ou what I saw. Maybe it was his day to do something impossible. Either way, I doubt it is safe to put him in lock-up with the other scumbags. Maybe Mom has a nice holding cell we can toss him into.”

  “Alas, you will not get that chance, Fürstin Ravenel.”

  Alfrigg sat up with blood streaming from his nose, mouth and ruined eye socket. “I cannot let myself be taken.”

  Raven was a shade too slow. She hadn’t noticed the blade he’d had sheathed at his waist. In a swift movement he drew the blade and rammed it into his heart. He smiled as if he’d been kissed and exploded into a shower of sparks that fell to the ground into a pile of white ash.

  Raven looked at the pile in disgust. “Swell.”

  II

  Blackwood Estate, Portland Plaza, St Louis: 10:00 a.m.

  Aspen leaned against the SUV’s door and tried to keep her heart from jackhammering in her chest. The only other time she’d met a Master vampire without Raven, she’d ended up the vampire’s pet mage. Xavier hadn’t been a kind master and it had taken all of her magik just to keep him from invading her mind whenever he wanted. It was an experience she didn’t want to repeat. She would die before she would let that happen again.

  She closed her eyes and summoned up her power. It was harder than it had been as a child. Her connection to the Faewild was weak, she hadn’t been back in years, and she was out of Faerie dust, the magikal component that supercharged her abilities. She was still a powerful mage, however, and she’d learned to tap human magik through Wicca. Now she let that power flow through her, warm her. It was comforting to feel it coursing through her skin.

  She straightened in her seat, feeling braver with every moment. But something was different, there was an edge to her magik that she hadn’t felt before. Something less controlled and far more primal than Faerie magik. When she tugged at it, it disappeared, then came back, like a shadow seen from the corner of her eye. With effort, she caught the thread and held on tight. The power that flowed through the thread was raw, electric, and it warmed her in a way nothing ever had.

  “We are here, Faramo Tempeste,” Rowan said.

  Aspen opened her eyes and looked out at a huge Romanesque mansion made of grey stone. Smoke drooled from the two chimneys placed in the middle of the structure and slithered down the burnt-orange roof to vanish behind the building. The SUV entered the circular drive and stopped before an arched doorway. Two men stepped out of the arch to open the doors and offer parasols to the occupants, who stood in their shade for the short walk to the door. Aspen followed Rowan through the archway and into a massive white-tiled foyer. Open doorways lead to the left and right while a wide antique staircase twisted upward to the second floor. The house was quiet, not surprising for early morning at a vampire estate, with only a handful of servants bustling about dusting and cleaning. They wore slippers and moved with such fear and care that Aspen felt sorry for them. Not even Valentina was that harsh.

  “This way, Faramo Tempeste,” Rowan said. Her voice was so hushed that Aspen almost didn’t hear her.

  They moved through another doorway where Rowan unlocked a heavy oak door into a stairwell that descended beneath the house. Aspen looked at the stairs and knew she had no interest in going down them. Whoever…whatever…was down there was pure evil.

  “I’m fine up here, thanks. If the Mistress isn’t up I can come back later,” she said.

  Rowan smiled, a gesture that looked odd on her narrow face. “Come now, Faramo Tempeste. You are a member of the House, no harm will come to you.”

  Aspen frowned and looked back at the stairs, which were made of some old wood, polished smooth and shiny with use. She could feel the new magik coursing through her, but she’d never used it before. She didn’t know what would happen if she had to call upon it. On the other hand, if she didn’t go they would either try to force her, or brand her and the House as cowards.

  She forced a smile and made an ‘after you’ gesture to Rowan, who smiled back and began to descend. Aspen followed, letting one hand trail over the smooth wooden wall, which soon became native stone. At the bottom of the stairs was a portcullis manned by the lycan Rowan had called Bruno. He bowed deeply and smiled.

  “It is agreeable to see you again, Lady Tempeste. Welcome to the House of Blackwood.”

  Aspen returned his bow. “And you, Bruno.”

  He straightened and opened the portcullis. “Lady Blackwood, the Mistress awaits you.”

  “Thank you, Bruno. Please have Lydia send down some warm Claret and a pot of tea for Faramo Tempeste,” Rowan replied.

  Aspen let herself be guided through the portcullis and down a short hallway. Beyond a pair of doors that looked more like they belonged in the den of a dominatrix than an antique mansion was the throne room, one more opulent than even Valentina’s. The walls had been cut from the native rock and polished to a mirror-like sheen. The floor was covered in plush carpet the color of blood and mirrors adorned the ceiling. They reflected the light of hundreds of candles and could still do nothing to chase away the chill darkness of the chamber.

  Three black-lacquered coffins sat at the far end of the chamber behind a tall throne made of black wood and red leather. An attractive woman in her early thirties sat in the chair wearing nothing but a nightgown that did nothing to hide her curves and left her long, tattooed legs bare. She was scrolling through a tablet with one leg draped over the throne’s arm.

  Rowan crossed the room and knelt beside the throne on a pile of cushions. The occupant stroked Rowan’s face absently and raised her eyes to look at Aspen.

  “Ah, Lady Tempeste, welcome to my home. I am Mistress Blackwood, though you may call me Shirina. Approach, please.”

  Aspen crossed the room with feet that felt like lead. Visiting the Mistress of St Louis wasn’t in her plans when she’d decided to take a break from her life in Chicago. When she reached the throne she gave a partial bow.

  “Aspen Kincaid-Tempeste, familiar of Fürstin Storm and servant of the House Tempeste,” she said.

  Shirina nodded once. “Well met, Aspen. I must admit I was dismayed to hear an emissary of House Tempeste was within my borders and did not present herself, but you are here now and no harm done.”

  Aspen straightened. “Apologies, Mistress Blackwood. I am not here formally, I am working on a case—”

  “Yes, the death of Kristof Martel, Bruno told me. Surely Valentina or Fürstin Storm told you protocol requires you to acknowledge the local Mistress, if there is one, upon entering their domain?”

  Aspen blushed. “Mi ‘lady, my Fürstin isn’t much for rules, as I am sure you are aware. I was not told, nor did I think it was necessary. I am flying under the radar, as it were.”

  Shirina stopped petting Rowan and stood. To Aspen’s surprise, the vampire was just a shade over five feet tall. “I see. Well, you should know that not all of the Court agrees with Fürstin Storm’s attitude toward the Totentanz. While within my domain I expect you to behave accordingly and swear fealty to me. Is that clear?”

  Aspen met Shirina’s eyes and wasn’t sure what to think. Was this a test? Or was the vampire really trying to force her to swear fealty?

  “With respect, Shirina, my loyalty is to Raven and Lady Valentina. My business here is not privy to the Totentanz nor do I owe you fealty,” she said.

  Shirina held her gaze a moment longer, then her delicate features broke into a wide smile.

  “Well done, Faramo Tempeste! Well done.”

  She sat and crossed her legs, gesturing at something Aspen couldn’t see. “Here is Lydia with the tea. I assume you prefer that to Claret? Share a cup with me and tell me what you know of this Martel.”

  Aspen turned to see an older woman in a Victorian maid’s uniform. She was pushing a cart laden with a silver tea set and a carafe of claret. She stopped beside Shirina and began to serve while Rowan placed more cushions for Aspen to lounge on. As
pen sat cross-legged on the cushions and accepted a silver cup filled with a warm, aromatic brew. A brew her nose told her was not entirely tea. She held it, but was careful not to touch or sip from the cup.

  “I don’t really know much. I found Mr. Martel’s corpse and started an investigation into what killed him. As of now there isn’t much to go on, I tracked him to the Four Seasons where I met Bruno and that is about all I know. My investigation will continue from here,” she said.

  Shirina took a cup of claret from Lydia. “I see. And where did you find Mr. Martel?”

  Aspen spread her hands. “I promised I wouldn’t share that information, or the location of his remains.”

  Shirina arched an eyebrow. “Really? Well, I suspect it is at that fleabag hunter motel or somewhere close by. Regardless, I am not interested in the disposition of his remains. I want to know why one of my lycans was found dead in his Colorado apartment.”

  Aspen blinked in surprise. “One of your lycans? How did he die?”

  “His throat was cut, similar to the man you found in his hotel room this morning. At first, I thought Martel had done it, but now I believe that to be unlikely. Perhaps whoever killed Martel was involved. How did Martel die?” Shirina asked.

  “I don’t know,” Aspen said. “He had no visible injuries, it was as if he just wasted away.”

  Shirina leaned forward. “Was he human? Could he have killed my lycan?”

  “He was human and no, I doubt he could best a lycan. My research indicates he didn’t even believe they exist,” Aspen replied.

  “The tea is not to your liking?” Lydia asked in a quiet voice.

  Aspen kept her eyes on Shirina. “Flunitrazepam isn’t to my liking. I prefer to keep my wits about me, especially in the company of new friends.”

  Shirina’s face was dead for a moment, then broke into another charming smile. She laughed and leaned back in her chair. “I see now why Ravenel has chosen you. You are smart and far more than the simple human you appear.”

  She snapped her fingers and Rowan pulled a piece of paper from inside her corset. Shirina took the paper and offered it to Aspen.