by Skye Knizley
“This is her memorial, Aspen,” Levac said in a reasonable voice.
Aspen stood. “It’s a memorial for the people who knew her then, not for us. For us it’s a puzzle. I know where she is!”
Levac took her hand. “Asp, come on, I know it’s hard, but why would they go to all this trouble to create and hide a memorial if she wasn’t dead?”
“Rupe, trust me. Think about it, that is not dead which can eternal lie? The scent of blood? Ray is a Master level dhampyr who is also part immortal. She’s not dead, come on!”
“Where are we going?” Levac asked for the hundredth time. “Can we at least get me a change of clothes?”
Aspen accelerated her Jeep around slow moving traffic and skidded through another intersection. “We’re almost there.”
“The morgue? Why are we…oh! Oh! Dammit Asp, drive faster!” Levac cried.
Aspen smiled and touched the throttle, easing the Jeep faster onto the straight away beneath the loop. Moments later, they skidded to a halt in the morgue parking lot. Aspen had seen the brick building, flickering basement lights and rumbling antique freezers hundreds of times. She’d always dreaded it, a visit meant someone was dead, beyond her help. But this time, she was certain it meant someone was alive. She leapt the railing and crashed through the doors without stopping. The guard on duty stood and was almost bowled over by Levac, who dropped his badge and kept running.
“Just sign us in, Rupert Levac, Aspen Kincaid, official business!”
At the bottom of the stairs, Aspen turned and entered the office of Dr. Ming Zhu. The small, dark-skinned man was hunched over a report and muttering into a microphone when Aspen held out the key.
“What does this go to?” she panted.
Zhu blinked. “Agent Kincaid? I’m in the middle of a report−”
“It can’t wait, doc, it’s important,” Levac said from the door.
Zhu’s eyebrows shot up. “Rupert, are you wearing pajamas? Are you out of clothes?”
Aspen tapped the key. “Ming, please, this is important, what does this go to?”
Zhu picked up the key and examined it through his glasses. “It looks like one of the keys to the old freezers, where did you get it?”
He polished it on his sleeve. “It almost looks new.”
“Show me!”
The old freezers were located behind a locked door at the end of the corridor. They weren’t often used, the last time was after an airplane crash in 1987. Aspen knew they were there the same way everyone who worked in Chicago law enforcement knew about them. But they were off-limits to most personnel so people didn’t ask about them until they had a need.
Zhu snapped on the antique lights revealing the long row of wood and steel freezers. They hummed loudly and clanked like ice makers in cheap motels, but they were kept clean and in working order at all times. A coroner named Ichabod Foster had insisted upon it and no one had questioned ‘Old Icky.’
“Are any of them locked?” Aspen asked.
“The two at the end, I’ve never been able to find the key,” Zhu said. “We’ve never needed them so I don’t bother. I’m sure they’re empty or full of junk. What is this all about?”
The freezers looked more like oversized antique file cabinets than a morgue. Each even had a little square where a card could be pinned with the name of the occupant. Aspen hurried to them and unlocked the topmost drawer, her heart pounding in her chest. It opened in a burst of air and frost that chilled her to the bone and left her gasping. She waved the fog away and peered into the gloom. Raven’s Automag sat atop an envelope and a neatly folded set of leather clothing. Aspen set the pile aside and unlocked the remaining drawer. It slid out easily on greased wheels to reveal Raven Storm lying on the steel slab. She was pale and her bright red hair looked dull from the cold, but it was unmistakably her.
Levac knelt beside Aspen. “Is she okay?”
“Is who okay? Rupert, what is going on?” Zhu asked.
Levac met Aspen’s eyes. Aspen nodded and pressed her fingers to Aspen’s throat, hoping there would be a pulse, even if it was faint. She had to be alive, otherwise she’d have rotted, right?
“It’s Raven, doc,” Levac said.
Zhu stepped forward. “Raven? Impossible, she can’t have gotten in there without my knowledge!”
Levac intercepted him. “There’s a lot you don’t know and we don’t have time to explain. Just trust us, okay?”
Aspen closed her eyes. “Come on, baby, give me a sign.”
There was nothing, nothing but arctic-cold skin. Aspen drew her knife and slit her wrist in a smooth motion that left the artery open and spilling dark, warm blood that fell on Raven’s lips.
Raven remained unresponsive, she just lay there, her face smeared with blood, her body colder than the grave. Aspen tilted Raven’s head and tried to force her to drink, but she was limp, lifeless and the blood just dribbled onto the floor. At length, Aspen let go and allowed Zhu to wrap her wound and staunch the bleeding.
“I just can’t believe she’s gone. Why did she want us to find her, if not to bring her back?” Levac asked.
Aspen stared blankly at Raven’s body. “She wanted us to know. To know she was gone, to be able to say goodbye.”
“I do not understand,” Zhu said. “How did Raven die? She was fine a few days ago and I see no wounds.”
Levac looked away. “It’s a long story, Doc. About the blood−”
Zhu smiled and there were tears on his cheeks. “Rupert, I know. I’ve known since she was a child, Raven is part vampire, from her mother’s side.”
“I’m sorry, Aspen,” a new voice said.
Aspen started. It was Raven’s voice, but not, there was a hint of Boston accent that didn’t belong. She turned and saw Sable Tempeste standing in the doorway, a mirror image of Raven in black leather pants and a blue sweater that made her bright red hair stand out in the gloom. She looked as if she’d been crying.
Aspen stood and hugged Sable, who paused then hugged her back tightly. Levac added his arms to the embrace, a family of friends.
“How did you find out?” Aspen asked.
Sable wiped her eyes. “Dad called and told me the whole story, said I should be here when she was found.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Say,” Levac said. “I didn’t think you two got along so well.”
Sable looked at Raven’s body. “We were sorting things out, Rupe. We’re sisters, twins, we were meant to be together and what happened wasn’t her fault. We weren’t BFF’s or anything, but we were sisters. The distance was Dad’s fault.”
Aspen pulled loose and moved back to Raven’s side. With gentle fingers she cleaned the blood from Raven’s face while Sable and Levac got caught up. She didn’t need to talk, she didn’t need comfort, she needed to be by Raven’s side.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Levac squeezed her shoulder. “Asp, Ming says he will contact family and start the, you know, it. Sable and I are going for drinks and a memorial, come with us?”
Aspen met his eyes and squeezed his hand. “I’ll meet you at ‘Night in a little while, okay? I just need a little more time.”
Levac forced a smile. “Yeah, I understand. We’ll be waiting, Sloan is coming, too.”
He turned and stopped in the doorway. “I know she wasn’t good at saying it, sometimes she had no idea what to say or do, but she loved you more than anything.”
Fresh tears rolled down Aspen’s cheeks. “She loved you too, Rupe. I’ll catch up soon.”
Levac gave a single nod then continued down the corridor. Aspen heard his footsteps recede, then she was alone again. She sat on the floor beside Raven’s body and began to sing, a soft Fae-folk melody of love and loss. The music reverberated from the walls and echoed in her ears as if her Fae sisters were singing with her. When the last words faded away,
she stood and pulled the sheet back to Raven’s chin. Raven’s eyes snapped open, glowing a bright cherry red that slowly faded to her normal green. Aspen screamed in surprise and Raven focused on her.
“Aspen? What happened? I heard you singing.”
Aspen squealed in delight and kissed Raven, a long and passionate kiss that drove the cold away and warmed both their hearts.
Lake Michigan, Whispering Island Beach, Present Day
The skull sat at the water line. It had been there for decades, untouched, washed by the wind and sand until it glowed at night. Nobody came here, there was no reason to and legend said it was haunted. There were better islands, better beaches far easier to reach.
A robed figure pulled the skull from the sand and dusted it clean with long-nailed fingers.
“There you are, my Goddess. Now where has the rest of you got to, eh?”
Red light, a glow like the very fires of hell, rose in the blackened sockets.
“Free me!”
The Storm Continues in Deadly Storm, April 2017
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As always, my editor Elizabeth. She always rocks it out no matter how close to deadline I am. Thank you, I’m sorry I’m never on time.
Sarah, my publisher who keeps me on my toes and watches my back. Thank you for always being there and keeping this train on the track.
My artist Bex at Dreams2Media who makes the most amazing covers.
My publicists Jen and Linda, without whom you would ever know I exist.
My stylist Kelly, who makes me look good.
My grandfather, Master Sergeant Harvey Parker, who spent our last visits telling me about the war. I miss you.
The Chicago History Museum
Gateway Classic Cars
For my Readers, the people who keep me writing.
Thank you.