by Skye Knizley
“No visitors tonight, ma’am, its poker night. Marvin shouldn’t have let you in.”
Raven held up her badge. “Detective Storm, this is Detective Levac, we’re here to see Becker.”
The guard folded his arms. “I’m sorry, detective, you’ll have to come back. No visitors.”
Raven moved closer. “This is important and will just take a few minutes of his time.”
The guard looked down his nose at Raven. “If it isn’t so important you have a warrant, you can come back tomorrow.”
He put a hand on Raven’s shoulder and tried to push her back the way she’d come.
“Here we go,” Levac muttered.
Raven grabbed the guard’s hand and squeezed until she could hear the bones rubbing on each other. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to lay hands on a woman unless she asks?”
She pulled his arm behind him and cuffed him to the railing around the window. “You stay there and think about what you’ve done.”
“Think about what he’s done?” Levac asked. “Are you his mother, now?”
Raven cocked her head. “I admit, it sounded better in my head. But he should still reconsider laying hands on any woman without permission. I’m a cop doing a public service.”
Levac rubbed the stubble on his cheek with one finger. “I think Aspen is wearing off on you. How much of her blood did you drink, anyway?”
Raven ignored him. It was getting late and her patience was wearing thin. She kicked the door open and stepped through, badge held aloft.
“Chicago police! Nobody panic or do anything stupid. No weapons, no smartass comments, I just want to ask Mr. Becker some questions.”
The room was large, much larger than a formal dining room. The walls were made of paneled wood stained dark, complete with chair rails and paintings of dogs, cats and fish playing poker. A poker table sat in the middle with eight people seated around it. A haze of cigar and cigarette smoke hung over the table, illuminated by a 19th century chandelier. Raven recognized most of the men at the table, they were a practical who’s who of the city’s scumbags. You wouldn’t find an odder bunch of characters outside a Dick Tracy comic.
A small, overweight man with pockmarked cheeks and square-rimmed glasses smoothed his thinning hair across his pate and smiled. “Detective Storm, I have read all about you. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Please, if you will come into the back, I will assist you with your inquiries.”
His voice had a quality to it that made Aspen think of a cartoon dog.
“Of course. Excuse us, gentlemen,” she said.
Becker led the way into an adjoining office that was complete with a variety of printers, scanners, computers, green screens and other tricks of the fake ID trade. He dropped into an overstuffed chair behind the desk and folded his hands primly on the desk.
“What is it I can do for you?” he asked.
Raven looked around. “Nice equipment you have here. What’s it for?”
Becker smiled. “You know exactly what it is for, Detective Storm, and you are not here to arrest me, you want to know about a client. Who?”
Levac leaned a hip against the desk. “Just like that? What happened to honor among thieves?”
Becker spread his hands on the desk and gave a small shrug. “There is no such thing. Most of the men I accommodate would sell me up the river for a cup of coffee.”
Raven pulled Bailey’s photograph out of her jacket and tossed it on the table. “This guy and at least seven others. I want to know if there were more of their merry little band.”
Becker picked up the photo and smiled. At least, Raven assumed it was a smile. His lip curled and his jowls parted.
“Bailey. Yes, I remember him. I did complete packages for the twelve of them. They paid for top quality work,” Becker said.
“I’m sure they did. Names and photos, please,” Levac said.
“Oh, now detective, that might be too far, I have a professional reputation to think about,” Becker said.
“Eight of those twelve are dead, Mr. Becker,” Levac said. “They didn’t use your work to commit a harmless crime, they used them to buy weapons. Then they killed an innocent young woman and tried to kill us.”
“Gives us the names and faces, Becker,” Raven said.
Becker sat back. “They said they had to get out of the country! I would never be involved in murder.”
“Then give us the names,” Levac said in a conversational tone.
“But—”
Raven gripped the desk with enough force to crack the wood. “Don’t make him ask again!”
Becker pushed his chair back from the desk in surprise. He swallowed and visibly calmed himself. “Of course, no problem.”
He stood and waddled to one of the cabinets the lined the wall. He was reaching inside when Raven pushed the door closed on his hand. “Now now, Mr. Becker. Is there a weapon in there?”
Becker blinked. “Of course not! I am just getting the files, they should be right in here.”
Raven stepped back. “Take them out slowly and show us your hands.”
Becker moved with exaggerated care and raised his hand. He held four white folders with neat, almost perfect block letters on the labels. “I assure you, I am unarmed. I do not condone violence, Detective Storm.”
He placed the folders on the desk and opened them one at a time. The photos showed two men and two women dressed like the others. Levac made a note of the names and collected the photos. “I’ll get a BOLO out on these. If they’re in the city, we’ll find them.”
He stepped out of the office and looked at Raven, who motioned for him to go ahead. When he was gone, Raven closed the door and looked at Becker. “What can you tell me about them?”
Becker looked blank. “I beg your pardon?”
“Come on, Becker. You’re the kind of guy who pays attention, the guy people on Myface call ‘anal’. What can you tell me? Hotel where they are staying, car they were driving, anything.”
Becker lowered himself into his chair with a sigh. “I see. I do not know where they may be staying, but those four came to pick up their packages together. They were driving an SUV of some description. A large one.”
Raven pulled out her notebook. “What kind?”
Becker made the hand-spreading gesture again. “A big black one.”
“License plate?”
“Y-D-Y-56 something,” Becker said.
Raven cocked an eyebrow. “What about the other two numbers?”
Becker looked sheepish. “I couldn’t see the whole thing. But I can tell you, when they left they turned east toward the lake.”
Raven frowned and stared at the notebook. “What time was this?”
Becker waved an uncertain hand. “Perhaps six, maybe seven. After dinner but before poker.”
Raven moved to the window. “You were watching from here. Do any of the store’s cameras face this way?”
Becker sighed. “Of course they do, detective. But you are asking too much. If this gets out, my reputation will be ruined. I have to make a liv—”
Raven turned, a hint of her monster showing in her eyes. “I don’t give a shit about your reputation! These bastards are hunting someone I care about and I mean to stop them. Show me the video.”
Becker paled at the look in her eyes and hurried to comply. He pressed buttons on his desk and the wall rolled back to reveal a dozen monitors. He pressed another series of commands and the screens changed to show the store before closing. He pointed one chubby finger at the center monitor.
“There! You can see the four of them, they come in the front door and the blonde speaks to my receptionist. She calls me and then they come up here.”
Raven watched the screen. The tall blonde woman walked in stiletto heels like they were sneakers. She had a haughty
look about her that annoyed Raven the moment she saw her. The other woman was of average height with brown hair pulled back in a multitude of small braids and the men were both so average they were almost indistinguishable from other men in the store.
“Show me the outside, where the SUV was parked.”
Becker pressed some buttons and the view changed to a camera in the window. The SUV was clearly visible and Raven recognized it as a newer Chevrolet. Becker was right, the plate wasn’t visible, but the make and model would let them narrow the search down. She turned back to Becker and tucked her notebook into her jacket.
“Thank you. I won’t trouble you further.”
She pulled a card out of her pocket and placed it on the desk. “If you think of anything else, call me.”
Becker wiped sweat from his forehead. “I will. Goodnight.”
Raven stepped into the hallway, where the guard was sitting on the floor. She looked at him and cocked her head. “Have we learned not to touch women without permission?”
“Fuck you!” he snarled.
“I’d rather not.” She pulled the key out of her handcuff pouch and showed it to the guard. “Those are APW custom cuffs. They have their own key and this is it. Bye-bye.” She tossed it down the hallway, where it vanished with a metallic clank.
“You can’t do that! You’re a cop!” the guard yelled.
Raven turned away. “Yeah, I’m a cop and I could arrest you for assaulting an officer. Instead, I’m just chaining you to the wall for the night. Maybe next time, you’ll have learned some manners.”
She found Levac outside leaning against the Bass. He was talking on the phone, but hung up when he saw Raven. “District has a BOLO out on our suspects and Frost authorized including the local Feds. Did you get anything else out of Becker?”
Raven waved her notepad. “I have a partial plate, make and model. Can you get them added to the BOLO?”
Levac pressed a stud on his phone and took the pad. “Need you even ask?”
Raven took a few steps away from the car and dialed her own phone. It rang once, then “Hey, it’s Aspen. I’m studying or hacking or something, leave a message.”
“Asp, it’s Raven. Call me, please? I’m worried about you.” She ended the call and closed her eyes. She could feel Aspen, she was still somewhere to the west, no more than a few hours away. She could feel Aspen was tired and afraid and part of her considered looking through Aspen’s eyes, to see what was happening. But she’d promised herself she wouldn’t, that she wouldn’t betray her friend’s trust.
She sighed and turned back to Levac, who was finishing his call.
“Got a hit on the BOLO already. Your Suburban just blew through a traffic cam on the other side of town.”
Raven took another look to the west, torn. “Come on, Asp, give me a sign!”
II
Devil’s Lake, MO: 2:13 a.m.
Aspen’s chest felt like it was going to burst. She’d been running so long she couldn’t feel her legs and her feet were growing leaden. She slowed and collapsed onto a bench, part of an old bus-stop that had once connected the small town to St. Louis and civilization. But she dare not rest long. No matter what she did, the lycan somehow caught her scent and was on top of her.
She leaned back against the bench and fought to catch her breath. She could hear the lycan not far away. She was surprised he hadn’t called to any of his pack to join the hunt, but it occurred to her he might not want to share his kill with them. He wanted her alive when he ate her.
She bent forward and held her head in her hands. She hoped to the Goddess and the forest that Jynx and the woman were safe. That had been the plan, after all.
“What am I doing? I’m no hero, I’m a lab tech from Wyoming.”
The lycan howled again, it had caught her scent and was on the move. It was only a matter of time until it caught her. She stood and looked at the bus map still hanging from the wall. The last place on the list was a gift shop for the old mine. According to the information section, the shop carried a variety of silver goods made from ‘the last of Devil’s Lake silver.’
It was more than likely nothing but touristy junk, but anything was worth a try. She turned to get her bearings and started running again, her boots pounding out a cadence on the pavement loud enough to wake the dead. This time, she wanted the lycan to find her.
Devil’s Lake gifts may have once been the kind of store that attracted tourists like flies to honey with its wide, welcoming doors, tall “I Love Devil’s Lake” sign and cigar store carvings, but now it was a dust-covered relic that, somehow, hadn’t been touched. The doors and windows were boarded from the outside and looked as if they had remained unmolested for the last fifty years. Aspen slowed to a stop and raised her hands. She could still feel her connection with Raven, but it was weak. She was hungry, tired and needed rest to recharge. She promised herself she would have chocolate and a nap as soon as her job was done.
She concentrated and balled up her hands, then made a pulling motion while muttering words of power. The boards covering the windows tore loose and clattered to the ground, allowing her to stagger into the store.
Inside was exactly the sort of store you would expect to find in a tourist trap. Shelves full of desperate knickknacks lined the walls, with everything from “miniature mine tools” to “100% genuine never used tin mining pans”. T-shirts, now moldy and moth-eaten, hung from chrome racks and a humidor full of mold Aspen couldn’t identify sat in the corner along with an antique soda machine that was still humming by the door. Behind the single counter was an assortment of “Devil’s Own Silver” inside a glass case.
Aspen broke open the soda machine and pulled out a bottle of cola so cold frost formed on the bottle as she held it. She twisted off the top and turned to see the lycan outside. He was on the far side of the parking lot, his nose in the air. Aspen raised her soda and took a draught from the bottle. It was cloying and a little thick with age, but tasted like nectar compared to the sawdust taste in her mouth.
“You followed me all the way across town, for what? Jynx and her friend are long gone and, let me tell you, I don’t taste good. I had to drink some of my own blood once, it’s kinda like prune juice.”
The lycan stepped forward, shifting with every step until he was again human. He smiled and spread his hands. “I don’t want to hurt you. I need a new alpha female, and you’ll do just as well as the Kane bitch. One female is about as good as the next.”
Aspen took another sip. “Sorry, big guy. You aren’t my type. Not that the pet python between your legs isn’t, you know, impressive, but you would be the second bloodthirsty maniac in a row I shared a bed with and I don’t think Raven would approve.”
Clanton’s face darkened. “Are you refusing me, woman?”
“My name is Aspen, and nobody in their right mind would agree to run with you. You’re a megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur,” Aspen replied.
She could see Clanton trying to work out what she’d said.
“Would you like a dictionary? I’m sure the store has one at a discount price for you, the Devil’s Lake customer,” she quipped.
Clanton roared and started forward again, shifting into lycan form as he walked. Aspen threw her bottle at him and ducked back into the store. She rolled over the counter and fell in a heap behind it, wondering how Raven always made moves like that look so damn sexy.
The lycan crashed through the doors a moment later, sending wood and glass in every direction. Aspen peeked at him from behind the counter, waiting for him to turn. His nose tested the air and his jaws parted around a howl of triumph. He tossed the chrome shirt display aside and took a step toward her. Aspen straightened and raised her hands in a casting posture. At least, she hoped it was one. She was still making this up as she went.
“When I was a girl, I always wanted to master what my mother called
‘the caster’s hand’. It’s supposed to be a simple spell to move objects with magik. It was simple, for everyone but me. I never could get a handle on it. Until today.”
Behind her, the silver cabinet opened and a chill wind rose, sending her purple hair flying around her shoulders. The lycan stopped, his eyes wide with surprise and fear. He turned to run, but it was too late. Dozens of commemorative silver knives, spoons, forks and coins flew from the cabinet and impaled the lycan with lethal velocity. He stumbled from the impacts and fought to pull the silver from his body. Steam erupted from his skin where the silver touched and his body looked as if it was on fire from within. After a moment he let out a pained roar and collapsed. His skin slowly dissolved until there was nothing left but a half-shifted skeleton and a pile of melted and warped silver.
Aspen squatted next to him. “On a normal day, I would find this fascinating. Today, I just want a nap and a pound of chocolate. Rest in peace, Clanton.”
She stood and walked into the night. She’d run so far she couldn’t see the hotel, but she assumed it wouldn’t be hard to find. It was a hotel in the middle of town, how hard could it be?
She fished her phone out of her pocket and checked for messages. She had a strong signal, but there was nothing, nothing from Jynx or Raven. She wasn’t sure if she should try Jynx, if she and the woman were hiding from any of the monsters in the area, she might give away their position.
Not that it mattered. She could feel the rest of Clanton’s pack watching her. She raised her eyes and looked at them, standing in a semi-circle ahead of her. There was almost a dozen outlined against the sky. Their increasing growl gave off the same feeling as a pressure-cooker about to pop.
Aspen gave them a small wave and backed away. “Look, if this is about your boss, I can explain. He was a dick, okay? You can do better than a psycho-killer left over from the Wild West. Why don’t you go back to your den or whatever and take a vote?”
The lycans continued to stare at her, their yellow eyes reflecting the street lights. Aspen knew it was only a matter of time before their growl reached a crescendo and they pounced. She was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open, she wasn’t sure she had the energy to fight them all off. But she wasn’t going to embarrass Raven by giving up without a fight.