by Skye Knizley
Willow Street Hostel was one of the few hostels in Chicago. It catered primarily to what Raven called “vamp groupies”, young men and women who liked the mystery and danger of preternatural districts in various cities. Most didn’t know that the monsters were real, they thought it was all very realistic cosplay. Chicago was one of the few cities where a significant percentage of ‘groupies’ didn’t vanish without a trace. Valentina frowned on preternaturals feeding on the innocent and the penalty for stalking the hostels was steep.
Raven parked her black Equus Bass 770 a block from the building and watched the street for a moment. The walk was almost empty; it was barely afternoon, Old Town didn’t get interesting until after dusk. A few black-clad humans were hanging out on the lawn of the hostel, which was a converted mansion that dated back to the 1800s, or getting hotdogs from the vendor across the street. But on the whole it was quiet, and that gave her the creeps.
“What’s wrong?” Levac asked.
Raven shook her head. “I’m not sure. It’s too quiet, when was the last time you saw this many young adults hanging out and weren’t having your fillings rattled out of your head by an annoying bass beat?”
“I don’t have any cavities,” Levac said.
Raven looked at him in annoyance and he clicked his teeth together.
“I don’t, these chompers are all natural. Well, mostly. I chipped the front ones during my Navy hitch, but no cavities.”
“It was a figure of speech, Rupe. Did you leave your sense of humor at the department?”
Levac shrugged. “I’m not really feeling myself today. I think it’s the lack of caffeine and sugar.”
“You can have a donut later, come on let’s see what’s going on.”
Raven climbed out of the Bass and led the way down the sidewalk under the watchful eyes of two young men sitting on the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the old house. They probably thought they looked vampish in their baggy black pants, net tee-shirts and purple Mohawks, but Raven thought they looked like rejected extras from a bad horror film.
She and Levac reached the hostel’s front door unmolested and passed through into the front hall. A makeshift reception desk made from old doors and chairs sat in the middle of the hall between two staircases that climbed to the second floor. A portly young man in a blue shirt and khakis sat behind the desk playing with a handheld video game of some sort. He looked up when Raven and Levac entered, and smiled.
“Welcome to Willow Street, most comfortable hostel in the city. I have beds and rooms available, what would you like?” he asked.
Raven flipped her credentials open. “Storm and Levac, Chicago police. We’re looking for a group of men, all dressed alike.”
The clerk shrugged. “We get a lot of people dressed alike, can you be more specific?”
“There are eight of them, black coats too heavy for the weather, black pants tucked into boots that have Italian pointed toes and they walk like they own the place,” Raven said.
“Yeah, they do,” the clerk said with a chuckle. “They’re in the second floor dorm, have the whole place to themselves. Take the stairs to the second floor and go left, it is the first door on your right.”
“Are they in their room?” Levac asked.
The clerk consulted a clipboard hanging on a string behind him. “It looks like three of them signed in about an hour ago. They should be in their room or somewhere on campus.”
“Thank you,” Raven said.
She turned and led the way up the stairs, her eyes on the floor above. Levac caught up to her and matched her stride.
“How do we want to play this?” he asked. “Are we guns blazing or just asking questions?”
Raven kept climbing. “The usual.”
Levac rubbed the stubble on his chin. “So, guns blazing, then. I knew I should have brought my Kevlar.”
Raven gave a lopsided smile. “It isn’t my fault people never let me ask questions and go straight to shooting. I would love a case where no one got shot. It would save me a ton of paperwork and meetings with Internal Affairs.”
“Yeah, I heard they have you on speed dial, now.”
They reached the second floor and turned left down the hallway, which was open to the courtyard below. The wall to their right was made of plaster and covered in notices, some so old they were yellowed and curling. Raven stopped just before the first door and held up a hand. She could hear at least two men talking in a sing-song language she didn’t recognize. She glanced at Levac who gave a nod and pushed open the door.
The dormitory stretched the full length of the building. It had once been several rooms, but the walls had been knocked out to make it a single common room with a dozen beds, fireplace, snack machine and coffee maker. Three men stood in the middle of the room talking excitedly about…something. They wore the same black coats and pants as Bailey had, complete with boots that looked like they belonged on a Christmas Fairy.
Raven held up her badge. “Chicago police, we’d like a word with you, please.”
One of the men yelled, “It’s her!” while the other two turned and reached for weapons. Raven drew her own pistol and stepped behind one of the columns supporting the roof. Levac dropped to his knees and upturned one of the beds, which had a solid wood frame.
“Whoa! We just want to talk!” he yelled.
“Put down your weapons and you might just walk out of here,” Raven added.
A bullet ricocheted off the column she was using as cover with a high-pitched whine.
“I see what you mean, Ray. It wasn’t your fault, they probably aren’t at all upset you shot their boss,” Levac said.
Raven grit her teeth and leaned around the column to return fire. Her pistol bucked in her hand at spat death at the nearest of the two men. Her first shot hit him in the arm, causing him to spin sideways. The second turned his heart into so much goo and he exploded, showering the nearby beds with shimmering sparks.
“He tried to shoot me first!” she yelled back.
Levac fired two shots that went wide and ducked back behind his bed. “Did you try talking first?”
Raven fired another shot that made the remaining thug move behind another pillar. “No, Rupe. I offered him tea and crumpets! Of course I tried talking!”
Levac rolled and fired again. His first shot went wide as the thug moved, but the second hit him in the chest. He barely had time to scream before collapsing into sparks and what Raven would later swear was flaming glitter.
Levac stood and stirred the residue with the toe of his shoe. “Maybe you should try looking less menacing, then.”
Raven ran past him and kicked open the door to the back stairs. “I don’t look menacing!”
Levac ran after her. “Have you seen yourself before coffee? Even I won’t say hello to you until you’ve had at least one cup. Preferably three.”
Raven rolled her eyes. “I’m no worse than you are before donuts. Do you want to go first or should I?”
Levac looked down the stairs. “You go. Not that I’m not chivalrous or anything, but I already had a bullet hole this month.”
Raven started down the stairs, taking them two at a time. “It was only a graze, stop whining!”
Levac followed her, weapon in hand. “Grazes still hurt!”
Raven crashed through the door at the bottom and spun, checking for targets. All around her, patrons of the hostel were either cowering or running for cover, but there was no sign of the remaining man.
“Chicago police! Which way did he go?”
A young woman, no more than nineteen or twenty rose from behind a lawn chair and pointed toward Old Town. “That way, he was heading toward the park!”
Raven started running again. “Thanks! Keep your head down until back-up arrives.”
“Did you even call for back-up?” Levac panted.
“I thought you did.”
Levac shrugged. “Kid’s going to have a long wait.”
Raven rounded the corner and started across the courtyard at the center of Old Town. There were only a handful of shoppers in the district, it was still early for preternaturals. A few customers were sitting outside Isle of Night enjoying meat pasties and others were mingling outside the Old Towne Sandwitch Shoppe, otherwise the streets were empty.
Levac slowed and skipped backward, looking every direction. “Where’d he go?”
Raven slowed. There was no sign of the fleeing man, the street ahead was empty and he wasn’t with any of the groups nearby. Raven concentrated on her enhanced senses. All she could smell was meat pasties and coffee, both of which made her stomach growl, but there was a sound, like a dull thump. She turned and saw that the door to Club Purgatory was swinging loose in the rising wind. By day, the club didn’t look like much with its plain warehouse façade, crazily leaning neon sign and bloodstained sidewalk. At one in the afternoon, the door should have been securely locked.
“There! Club Purgatory!”
She started running again and could feel Levac close on her heels. She leapt up the stairs and stopped by the door, which had been chained shut. The chain now scraped loosely on the cement landing and the door swung open. She pulled it open and Levac stepped through, his weapon held in a Weaver ‘cup and saucer’ stance. Raven followed, her own weapon ready.
The entry consisted of a short hallway that contained the front restrooms, coat and weapons check and the reception desk, which was more a podium than anything so lofty. A plastic curtain at the end of the hallway led into the club proper. Levac paused at the curtain and looked back. Raven met his eyes and he pushed through, weapon first. Raven followed and looked around.
In the center of the club was the main dance floor, surrounded by dance poles and cages that looked forlorn in the darkened building. The stage at the far side of the building was empty of everything except the speaker stacks and the normally loud and writhing mosh pit was now dead and lonely. Even the teak bar looked lost in the emptiness.
Raven motioned for Levac to move down the near side while she went down the center. He whispered an almost silent “be careful” and she watched him move off, then began across the room herself. She was partway across the room when the lights came on and she found herself in the spotlight normally reserved for dancers and the egomaniacal lead-singers of up and coming bands. Raven rolled aside just in time to avoid two bullets that punched a hole in the floor where she’d been standing.
“You killed my brothers, Detective! I can feel it!”
Raven braced herself with one leg and tried to find the source of the shots. “They gave me no choice. Drop your weapon and come out, I promise you will not be harmed.”
She rolled as another shot rang out and fired at the source. She saw sparks as all three shots ricocheted off the second floor scaffolding.
“I’m going to kill you, Detective. Then I’m going to kill Aspen-Fyre,” the voice said.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re going to get me and my little dog, too. Why don’t you come out where I can see you? We can talk about the rubber room I have all picked out for you,” Raven said.
The man let out a laugh that put Vincent Price to shame and fired another shot that nicked Raven’s arm and sent her sprawling. Levac returned fire and ran forward, his weapon aimed upward, his free hand reaching for Raven.
“Ray! Are you all right?”
Raven rolled over and scooted behind a speaker. “I’m fine, just a flesh wound. Get your butt down!”
A shot missed Levac by inches and he dropped to his knees. His momentum kept him going and he slid across the polished floor, weapon firing. He slid to a stop next to Raven and ejected his weapon’s magazine.
“I don’t think I hit anything,” he said.
Raven made a face, but her response was interrupted by a weapon falling out of the rafters. It clattered to a stop beside her.
“Maybe I hit something after all,” Levac said.
“Does this mean you give up?” Raven asked.
By way of answer, the thug fell out of the rafters and hung face down from the cables that powered the lights.
Levac stood and looked at him. “No offense, but why haven’t you gone poof like the others?”
Raven joined him and used one hand to stop the thug from spinning. “Because he’s human. At least more so than they were.”
Levac looked at her. “What was a human doing running with a bunch of weird preternaturals?”
Raven looked black at the thug, who stared at her with dead eyes. “I have no idea.”
II
Smokin’ Guns Motel, St. Louis, MO, 3:00 p.m.
Aspen woke and stared at the water stained ceiling above her head. She knew she was in her room at the motel, but the last thing she remembered was being in Jynx’s car and feeling like she needed a week-long nap.
She sat up and rubbed her head, it felt like two prize fighters were throwing down just behind her eyes.
“Feeling better?”
Aspen turned her head to see Jynx sitting in one of the room’s small but comfortable chairs. She had a threadbare novel on her knee and a glass of what was probably whiskey and cola on the table beside her.
“If the pounding in my head would stop, I’d be fantastic,” Aspen groaned.
Jynx stood and handed Aspen a bottle of water from the bedside table. “Creek said you might have a headache. He called it a ‘mage hangover’.”
“You told him what happened?”
Jynx shrugged. “When I got you back here and we couldn’t wake you, yes. Creek said you were in some kind of hibernation to recover from using your magik. He’s hard to understand, but the gist was that it takes a lot out of a witch to heal someone. Most can’t do it at all.”
Aspen sipped the water. “I didn’t know that, I was just trying to help Vincent.”
Jynx sat on the bed beside her. “And you did good, but I’m guessing you shouldn’t do it again unless you have a safe place to rest and someone to look out for you, because you were out of it. Even Creek yelling in your ear didn’t make you flinch.”
Aspen drank some more water and set it aside. “Good to know. Did Creek have any other pearls of wisdom I should know about?”
“Only that I should leave you alone and let you sleep. I think he threatened to cut me into small pieces if I woke you, but like I said, he’s hard to understand.”
Aspen blinked at her. “You let him get away with that? You must be slipping.”
Jynx waved her hand. “He didn’t mean it. I’ve known Creek since I was barely old enough to sit on those stools out there. He was just watching out for you.”
Aspen stood and staggered toward the bathroom. “He’s got a kind old soul in there somewhere. I’m going to get a shower and hope it makes me feel human again. You’re welcome to stay and read.”
“Because that’s exciting,” Jynx muttered.
Aspen stepped out of the bathroom forty minutes later feeling refreshed and human again. She’d dressed in a pair of jeans tucked into knee-high boots and a pastel purple top that left her arms bare. She was surprised to find that Jynx was gone, but not overly so. Jynx was a free spirit and bound to do what suited her at the time without saying much. Odds were good that she’d gone to the diner to get something to eat or was making use of the makeshift shooting range behind Creek’s trailer.
It was cooler than she’d expected when she stepped outside and she shrugged into her leather jacket before heading up to the diner. She rounded the corner near the door and spotted Jynx loading gear into the back of her car. Aspen crossed the lot and looked over her shoulder.
“Going somewhere?”
Jynx hefted a pack and lowered into the trunk amidst a collection of weapons that looked like it belonged
in the back of a military vehicle.
“Piper is going to be in hospital a few more days, I thought you and I could go check out this Devil’s Lake. Maybe we can dig something up about your dead guy. Are you ready to go?”
Aspen blinked. “What, like, now? Tonight?”
Jynx turned and folded her arms. “Why not? We’ve still got daylight and Midnite here has more than enough lights to set up a camp by.”
Aspen hadn’t expected to leave so soon, but there was really no time like the present. Michelle would be able to cover her shift until she got back, so why not?
“Sure, let me grab a few things.”
Jynx pulled a piece of gum out of her pocket and bit into it. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Aspen returned to her room where she packed her own gear bag along with some of Martel’s cameras and ‘ghost hunting’ gear. Most of it looked like baloney, but night vision could come in handy and who knew what was out there?
She added her pistol to a tactical holster Raven had given her and then retrieved her spell book from its hiding place in the floor. The book, with its thick black and purple binding, and antique pages was her prized possession. It had taken her the better part of two years to rebuild the one she’d lost, and another three to compile a repertoire of magik that actually worked outside the Faewild.
She held the book to her chest, hefted her gear and returned to the parking lot where Jynx was twirling her pistols around her fingers like an Old West Pistolero. She holstered them when she saw Aspen coming and popped the car’s trunk again. Aspen dropped her bag in alongside the others and closed the lid.
“What’s the book?” Jynx asked.
“Spells. You never know what we might need.”
Now it was Jynx’s turn to be surprised. “You actually have a spell book? I thought they were all tomes of ancient mysteries and dark powers. Daddy always said to burn the books and salt the ashes.”
Aspen held her book a little tighter. “Not all are like that. There are books of evil out there, far more than there are books of light, but this isn’t one. I’ve been collecting new spells since I… Since I was in high school. They’re the good kind.”