by Skye Knizley
From the hallway they passed into a sitting area decorated in more shades of grey. A wide desk sat in front of the window flanked by a pair of plain chairs. A chess board was set up on the other side of the room and a heavy sea chest sat in the middle between the chairs and desk.
“That’s the chest I bought from Nappy yesterday. It isn’t much, really, just a hobby. I have a passion for antiques. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure, I always say.”
It looked as if Poole had been using a variety of hand tools to crack the lock, without much success. Raven also noticed a distinct lack of any antiques in the room, junk or otherwise.
Storm bent to examine the lock and made a face. “It’s warded. Did you know that?”
Poole took off his glasses and began to polish them with shaking hands. “I beg your pardon?”
Storm straightened. “You have to be the most boring gnome I’ve ever met. The chest is warded, we both know it. What’s the real story?”
“Gnome?” Raven asked. “Isn’t he a little tall for a gnome? I was thinking brownie, one runs the train store back…where I come from,” she finished.
Poole looked offended. His cheeks reddened and he glared at Raven.
“Brownie! My mother was human, if you must know. What gave me away?”
“I’ve met my fair share of preternaturals, I know the signs. Spill it, what’s the deal with the chest?” Raven asked.
Poole thumped it with a calloused hand. “I think it contains an object I’m looking for. The ship carrying my family’s heirlooms sunk back in the 15th century. I heard that Lash had purchased this chest and it matched one in my grandfather’s journals. It’s warded, which makes sense, but I haven’t been able to get past the magik.”
Raven tapped the lock with her boot and chewed her lip. “I know a way to break it.”
“How?” Storm asked.
“I can shoot it off.”
Poole shook his head and held up his hands. “I think that is a very bad idea, its magik you can’t just…shoot it! Besides, my neighbors would notice!”
“My pistol is special, it wouldn’t be the first time I used it on a magikal device,” Raven said.
Storm looked at her strangely.
Raven arched an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“You’re definitely my child,” he said.
He drew the sword from his back, twirled it around his hand once then hacked at the lock in a smooth sweeping motion that elicited a scream of terror from Poole, who screamed, “No!”
The lock popped before the echoes of Poole’s scream died away and Storm sheathed his sword.
“Viola! It’s open.”
Poole closed his mouth and blinked at the chest in surprise. “How did…let me see that sword!”
Storm shrugged. “What sword?”
“It must be special to have cut through a magikal ward. Who are you people?”
“The police,” Raven said. “Open it.”
Poole pulled broken lock free and heaved on the lid, which creaked open on rust-seized hinges. Inside was a collection of tarnished coins and trinkets arranged around a velvet bag so badly rotted the skull inside was visible in the mess. Poole slammed the lid in annoyance and kicked the chest.
“Fiddlesticks, it isn’t here. Five hundred bucks down the privy!”
“You mean you weren’t looking for some vampire’s skull?” Raven asked.
She reached for the lid and the gnome slapped her hand. “This is my property, I’ll thank you not to touch it!”
Storm frowned. “Listen, tiny, that skull might be a clue to what is going on, all the evidence points to you and that chest. Whose skull is it?”
“No one’s, it’s just a skull, didn’t pirates collect skulls?” Poole said with a chuckle. “It’s the wrong chest, obviously just pirate treasure.”
Raven let her monster show in her eyes. “It’s a vampire skull. That only happens with very old vamps and I know of only a few old enough to achieve Amaranthine Torpor. Who is it?”
Poole sat on the chest. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It’s Strohm, isn’t it?” Raven asked.
“Of course not, Lord Strohm is…I mean…”
“Strohm is what? Paying you to find whoever this is?”
“What are you talking about, Raven? Who is Strohm?” Storm asked.
Raven’s face darkened. “A psychopathic sanguinarch with delusions of grandeur. He’s tried to kill me a few times, including draining me dry in a torture chamber.”
Poole shook his head. “I doubt that, Miss. If Lord Strohm wanted you dead, you would be.”
“You don’t know me very well. Why does Strohm want this skull?” Raven asked.
“He doesn’t, no one even mentioned him. It’s just a skull, not important at all. Why don’t we go in the next room and have a drink? I’ve got Faewine, fresh from the eternal garden,” Poole said.
Storm picked Poole up by the shoulders and held him two feet off the ground without apparent effort. “Now I’m interested. Raven, check the skull while Poole and I have a chat.”
Raven lifted the lid and used the blade of her knife to scrape away the lichen and rotten cloth that covered the skull. It was old and badly scarred, but the extended canines and extra set of uncut teeth was unmistakably vampire.
“It’s a vamp. Female, if I’m any judge.”
“Okay, little man, why did you buy a vampire skull?” Storm asked.
Poole struggled in Storm’s grip. “Put me down, human!”
“Sorry, bub. I want to know whose brain box is in that chest and why you bought it. I’ll break pieces off you until you spill the truth, if I have to.”
Poole began to chant and Storm slammed him into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. “Don’t even think of trying to magik me, I’ll snap your neck and leave you for the rats!”
Now I know where I get it from, Raven thought.
“Ease up, Pops, we still need him.”
She pulled the skull out of the chest and rebounded it off her shoulder like a soccer ball.
“Tell me who this is, Poole, it will go easier for you. Who is it and what does it have to do with Lash’s murder?”
Poole looked at Raven in surprise. “Wait, Lash is dead?”
“That’s why we’re here, gnome. He was burned to death early this morning,” Storm said.
“I didn’t know, I swear! Nappy was my friend, we play chess together,” Poole said.
Storm was unconvinced. “You play chess with a Bori?”
Poole tried to shrug in Storm’s grip. “Why not? We’re all brothers under the skin, right?”
He looked at Raven. “You’re a half-breed, correct? Give the chess board a sniff, I promise you will smell him on the pieces.”
Raven glared at him. “Call me half-breed again and your friend won’t be the only one around here without a head.”
She moved to the board and glanced at the pieces. “What side does he play?”
“Both, but he’s white this week. I swear I’m not lying.”
Raven picked up the white knight positioned in the middle of the board and sniffed it gingerly. The scent of Poole was on the piece, beneath a stronger more earthy scent. It was hard to tell, her only whiff of Lash was his burned blood, but it could be the same.
“Well?” Storm asked.
Raven put the knight back. “I can’t be sure if it was Lash, but if it wasn’t him they have a very similar scent.”
Storm lowered Poole to the floor. “Then what’s the skull about?”
Poole brushed himself off. “It’s a business deal, nothing more. A man named Skorzeny paid me to find it. I tracked it to the merchant vessel Devil’s Storm, which went down in 1672, and asked Nappy to keep an eye open for any news. Nappy heard that this chest
was from the wreck and he got his hands on it with a bunch of other stuff. I bought it and here we are, end of story.”
He extended a hand to Raven. “I’ll take what’s mine now, Skorzeny is paying a pretty penny for her.”
Raven held the skull higher. “Not until you tell me who she is.”
Poole sighed. “Her name is Titania, she’s no one−”
“She was first queen of the faeries,” Raven interrupted. “A badass, as I recall.”
Poole looked impressed. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve read Shakespeare…and my fiancée is fae.”
“A dhampyr and a fae? Your parents must be so proud,” Poole said. His voice dripped with sarcasm.
Storm raised Poole to eye level. “I’m her father and I couldn’t be prouder. Any other stupid remarks?”
Raven was impressed, Poole looked like he was going to wet himself, but his voice didn’t shake at all when he said, “No, my apologies, Master Immortal.”
“So a man named Skorzeny paid you to find a faerie-vampire hybrid’s skull, and you located it in a chest full of pirate treasure. Does anyone else feel like they’re in a Tim Burton movie? Johnny is going to step out any second now wearing stupid makeup and a goofy smile.”
Both men stared at her.
“Who is Tim Burton?” Storm asked and the same time that Poole said, “Who’s Johnny?”
Raven shook her head. “Never mind. Why does Skorzeny want Titania’s skull?”
Before Poole could answer, automatic gunfire rang out and the office window exploded inward. Raven dove behind one of the chairs, but Storm and Poole remained in the line of fire. The bullets tore through Storm’s back and hit Poole, who screamed and writhed in pain. His screams died as his body burst into flames and dissolved away.
Storm fell to the floor and pushed himself behind the other chair. Blood stained his shirt and his eyes glowed red.
“Dad! Are you okay?” Raven asked.
Storm drew his Colt. “I’ve been better, those slugs really hurt.”
He pushed a finger through one of the ragged holes in his coat and showed Raven. “This was brand new, too! German vandals!”
“It could have been your head!” Raven yelled.
She popped from behind the chair, pistol in hand. Six men were standing on the street, all dressed in black from their shined shoes to their matching fedoras and sunglasses. The lead man was bigger than the rest, with a jagged scar that ran from beneath his left eye to the corner of his mouth. He held up a hand and the gunfire stopped.
“Are you still alive, Herr Mason?”
He had a thick accent that reminded Raven of movie villains of the Pulp era.
Storm spat a gobbet of blood and wiped his mouth. “Do I know you, pal?”
The leader chuckled. “No, no you do not. But I know you, Mack Mason. Give me the skull and you and your woman can go free.”
“Why does everyone want this thing?” Raven asked.
The leader ignored her. “What do you say, Mason?”
“What skull?” Storm asked.
“Do not be childish, Herr Mason. We know you opened the chest, I want the skull. You can give it to me and live or I can take it from the wreckage, the choice is yours.”
Storm cleared his throat and Raven glanced at him. He was holding up three fingers, then two. Raven nodded and, at one, popped from behind her cover. Her pistol spoke twice, too loud in the small room. The first bullet hit the closest man in throat. He fell to his knees clutching at his neck while the man beside him lost the top of his skull from Raven’s second shot. Both burst into flames as the silver entered their systems and Raven rolled to safety behind Poole’s desk.
Not far away, Storm rose and fired three shots before sliding to a stop next to Raven. From the sudden screams and the whoosh of flame, Raven knew he’d killed at least two of the lycans.
To her surprise, there was no return fire. She glanced at Storm then peered around the desk. The leader was holding a grenade that he threw without warning or pause. It bounced off the desk and landed a few feet away with an audible clank.
Storm drew his sword. “Get behind me!”
“Are you insane?”
“Just do it, girl!”
Storm dropped to one knee and planted his blade point first into the floor. He then gripped the blade and bowed his head. Raven felt rather than saw the energy coalescing around them, a pale red sheen that spread from the sword and surrounded them in a protective barrier. Raven covered her ears and bent low, a moment later the grenade exploded sending a pressure wave and shrapnel that should have killed them. It parted as soon as it hit the sword and left them unscathed while the house fell apart around them.
When it was over, Storm slumped and fell into Raven’s arms. She lowered him to what was left of the floor and checked his pulse. He was alive, just unconscious.
“Drop the weapon, Fräulein.”
Raven felt the barrel of a pistol on the back of her skull and set her pistol down beside Storm’s hand. “Who are you?”
“My name is unimportant. Herr Mason is impressive, as are you. Stay out of my way and I will let you live.”
The weapon was removed and Raven half turned to see the leader. He nodded to her then looked at the lycan behind him. The werewolf was huge, almost as large as a Primal, with long grey fur and claws that were polished and razor sharp. He held Titania’s skull in one paw, an axe in the other.
The leader eyed the skull and sighed. “It is the wrong one, this was a wasted endeavor, we should not have trusted the pathetic inhuman. Take it anyway, perhaps Der Fuhrer will have use of an ancient vampire.”
The lycan growled and hurried out of the burning building. The leader watched him, giving Raven the opportunity she was waiting for. She picked up Storm’s sword and rose, bringing the blade around in an arc that should have cut his head from his shoulders. The leader sidestepped with incredible speed and raised his pistol.
“You should have listened, Fräulein.”
Raven was over-balanced and couldn’t get the sword back in time to block. There was the loud crack of the Luger pistol and she felt the bullet punch through her skull just before the world went black.
She knew time had passed. You can’t get shot in the head and just get back up, no matter how fast you regenerate. Brains are delicate things. The first thing she felt was the sensation of being carried and a sharp pain above her eyebrow. She tried to open her eyes, but they weren’t ready for that, yet. She lay still and floated at the edge of consciousness, letting her body heal.
I’m getting tired of being knocked out, she thought.
Maybe you should wear a helmet, love.
It was Aspen’s voice, somewhere in her head. But that was impossible, she was a lifetime away, a lifetime she would probably never see again.
Don’t be so negative, Aspen said.
Raven wanted to rub her head, to move, but she couldn’t. She felt a bed beneath her and tasted blood on her lips. She recoiled from the taste and a hand parted her lips, forcing the sticky-sweet fluid down her throat.
Just drink, honey. You need the Claret, you took a bullet to the head, Aspen said inside her skull. You are lucky it wasn’t silver.
You can’t be here, Raven shot back. I must be dying.
You’re not dead, and I’m here. Part of me, anyway. I promised you would never be alone again, didn’t I? Stop screwing around and get home to me.
I can’t, Asp, there’s no magik, no way to travel through time, Raven thought.
If anyone can find a way, it’s you, Raven Storm.
“Wake up, kid,” Storm said.
Raven’s eyes snapped open and she looked up at Storm, who looked tired, but otherwise unharmed. She was lying on a leather sofa in what looked like some kind of library with high wooden shelves lined with ancie
nt tomes and paintings of long-lost battles.
“What happened?” Raven asked.
“What happened is an operative named Skorzeny shot you in the face.”
Archer appeared wearing a silk robe and carrying a glass of Claret. “You should be more careful, Fürstin.”
Raven sat up and touched her forehead. The bullet wound was healing, but still tender and weeping blood. She hoped it didn’t leave a scar.
“Why did you bring me to him?”
“Because you needed blood and you already drank what I had on hand,” Storm said. “It was Archer or the hospital−”
“And hospitals ask questions, especially when their patient has a bullet hole in their head.”
Raven ignored Archer. “Did you see him, how he moved? No one is that fast, what the hell was he?”
Storm fished a wet rag out of a nearby basin and dabbed at the wound in Raven’s forehead. “I think he was an Orlok, a pureblood strain of vampire thought to be extinct.”
“No way, he was in full daylight. No offshoot can do that,” Raven said, “not even Pureblood.”
“Which makes this even more troubling, Ms. Storm,” Archer said. “Titania’s skull in the hands of the Nazis cannot mean anything good.”
Raven looked at Storm. “Is there anything you didn’t tell him? Does he know I’m having my period, too?”
Storm shrugged. “Gross, Raven. It’s his case, I thought he might be able to help.”
“Why would Nazis want the Fae Queen?” Raven asked.
Archer sat opposite and sipped from his glass. “Titania wasn’t just the queen of the fae, she was a warrior, mage and no friend to humans. Were she to throw her lot in with the Third Reich they would be unstoppable.”
“She would join them just for the joy of killing,” Storm added.
Raven studied her glass. “Are we talking about the same fae? Little people with wings and faerie dust? They cast spells and things?”
Archer’s snakelike smile crossed his face. “Those are modern fae, Fürstin. The faeries Titania led were angry, vicious and bloodthirsty. Legend says she was killed to bring peace between humans, vampires and faerie-kind.”