by Skye Knizley
She sat on his back and held her head, feeling faint. Several people came forward asking questions. Through the haze she barely noticed them, doing little but flipping out her badge.
“You have the right to remain unconscious,” she said. “If you say anything while unconscious it can be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. I’m sure your scumsucking boss will get you a good one, but if you cannot afford an attorney I will get someone who will screw you nine ways to Sunday…”
“What are you doing, Detective?” one of the onlookers asked.
Raven looked up at the woman and wiped another tickle of blood from a cut in her lip that was refusing to heal. “I’m reading this guy his rights.”
The short brunette looked confused. “But isn’t he unconscious?”
Raven nodded and patted the back of Caito’s head. “I certainly hope so. Don’t worry. He’ll be mirandized again after his nap. Besides, he already knows his rights, this guy has a sheet as long as your leg.”
Just then Levac charged in with two patrolmen behind him. “Nobody move!”
“Marvelous,” Raven said as the crowd around her put up their hands. She stood and walked through the crowd to where Levac and the patrolmen were standing in some confusion. She pointed at the two patrolmen and jerked a thumb at Caito’s unconscious form. “You two get that piece of trash out of his crater and book him for assault, resisting arrest, and pissing me off to no end.”
The three officers holstered their weapons and the two patrolmen left to do as Raven had said. Levac looked Raven over and opened his mouth. Raven cut him off.
“No, I’m not okay, yes I’m bleeding, yes I need a drink and you were right on time. I think the crowd was getting unruly. They could have rioted at any second and buried me in business cards,” she said. “Please make sure Caito gets read his rights when he wakes up and catch a ride with the blue boys, I’m going home. I’ve had enough for one day.”
AN HOUR LATER, RAVEN LAY in her antique tub surrounded by the soft glow of sweet cream and vanilla scented candles. Dominique had prepared a cocktail of claret and Moscato wine that Raven found almost tolerable; she sipped at the mix and felt her strength returning. Levac had called ten minutes before to confirm that Caito was being held on a one million dollar bond which pretty much ensured that he would be there for questioning in the morning. It was unlikely No Nose would cough up a million dollars in cash for a low-level enforcer, even if the guy could run like a scared rabbit.
She sank back into the warm sudsy water and finished her drink, trying not to gag on the cloying taste of blood at the bottom of the goblet. When she was through she set the goblet aside and stared at the ceiling. Caito had mentioned her father and implied No Nose had something to do with his murder. There had been no leads in his death and it had been filed as unsolved. If Caito or No Nose knew something, Raven intended to find out what it was no matter the cost. It was odd, though. How would Caito know if he just joined the family? Something just wasn’t adding up.
She sighed and closed her eyes, feeling sleep approaching. She was just starting to float in a pleasant half-asleep state when someone knocked on the door.
“Miss Ravenel?” Dominique called.
Raven sat up in the tub. “Yes, Dominique?”
“Your mother needs your assistance.”
Raven rolled her eyes and climbed from the tub. “I’m coming, what’s wrong?”
“One of your sire’s followers is making an official challenge for the throne,” Dominique replied.
Raven dried off quickly and pulled her hair into a ponytail. When she opened the door Dominique was holding leather pants, a bustier, jacket, boots and a sword.
“What’s the hell is the sword for? Get my Automag.”
Dominique looked down. “I’m sorry, Ravenel. The challenger demanded trial by sword.”
“Swell,” Raven snarled. “What idiot is challenging her, anyway?”
“Astaroth Brinley,” Dominique said, helping Raven dress. “He is seconded by Francois Du Guerre.”
Raven glared at the wall and finished getting dressed. A few minutes later she hurried down the stairs after Dominique, the heels of her boots almost silent on the hardwood steps. She followed her mother’s familiar into the ballroom, which was being cleared of furniture, and stopped next to Valentina who was sitting primly on her throne, legs crossed at the knee, a glass of claret in one hand. She raised an eyebrow at Raven, but otherwise didn’t speak.
“What the hell is going on?” Raven asked in a whisper.
Valentina didn’t look up. “It would seem Astaroth and Lord Du Guerre believe I am unfit to be the Mistress of the City; several vampires and familiars have recently gone missing, an issue they believe is my responsibility. They have therefore placed a formal challenge. And you are late.”
Raven’s eyes glowed and she leaned closer to her mother, her voice pitched low. “There is no court tonight, Mother. I agreed I would be here for court, I never agreed to be here twenty-four seven.”
Valentina frowned. “These are your people, my daughter. I expect my Fürstin to be by my side every evening.”
“Then find another Fürstin, Mother. Or learn to fight,” Raven replied. “I’m trying to get a life.”
She turned away and strode across the ballroom to where Astaroth and Du Guerre were standing. Astaroth, a tall man with silver hair and a full beard was dressed in black pants and a medieval jerkin over a blousy white shirt. A Scottish sword was sheathed at his hip. A step behind him stood Francois Du Guerre dressed in black leather, a katana held in one hand like a cane. Raven stopped in front of them, anger etched in her face.
“Francois, what are you doing with this bottom-feeding troll?” she asked, ignoring Astaroth.
“I beg your pardon?” Astaroth asked.
“Shut up,” Raven ordered, meeting Astaroth’s eyes. She then turned back to Francois. “Well? Are you helping Strohm again? Cause last time I checked, my sire was a skull pinned to a stone with a sword you gave me.”
“Astaroth asked me to be his second, Ravenel,” Francois replied in even tones. “I accepted. It is that simple.”
Raven shook her head. “It’s never that simple with you and you aren’t this stupid. You always have an ulterior motive.”
Francois simply stared. Raven stared back for a beat before turning to Astaroth.
“Your challenge is accepted. You have until I get to my sword to ready yourself. Under the laws of the Totentanz, should you be wounded and unable to continue the fight I may choose a second weapon. I choose Automag pistols.”
Raven saw Francois’ eyes widen at her choice and she looked at him. “Still want to be this moron’s second?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer. She turned on her heel and made her way back across the room to where Dominique held her sword. She drew the custom-made katana from its sheath and examined it. The silvered blade was thirty inches long and had been sharpened with a laser. It would cut paper as easily as it would cut through a head. The blade ended in an ebony hilt wrapped in red and black shark skin that wicked sweat from her hands and helped her keep her grip. Her brother Thad had made it for her after Xavier had tried to kill her with a blade just like it.
She tested the blade with her thumb and turned as a single drop of blood ran down the curved steel. Across the room Astaroth drew his own sword and raised it in salute. Raven disregarded the salute and walked toward the middle of the room, her katana held in one hand. Astaroth met her, his eyes going from a drab grey to a fiery blue.
“Last chance, Astaroth. Lay down your sword and forget your challenge and I will make sure you get to keep your head,” Raven said.
Astaroth raised his sword and examined the notched blade. He then smiled and swung it in a roundhouse blow intended to remove Raven’s head. Raven ducked the swing and cartwheeled backwards, ending in a guard position with her katana held in both hands.
“I’ll take that as a no,�
�� she said. “Dad always said ‘a man’s got to know his limitations.’ I guess you’re as stupid as you are ugly.”
Astaroth charged, bringing his sword down in another swing, the blade whistling like a speeding train. Raven blocked the swing and gritted her teeth as the scraping blades showered her with sparks. She kicked out with one foot, catching Astaroth in the stomach and pushing him back several steps. She followed up with a flurry of attacks, the two blades becoming a blur of silver surrounded by golden sparks. She ended the series with a punch that knocked out one of Astaroth’s teeth and sent him scurrying backwards again. He paused and looked Raven up and down as if seeing her for the first time.
“I underestimated you, Fürstin Ravenel,” he said, twirling his massive blade in one hand.
“I get that a lot,” Raven replied. “Are you going to fight or are you going to stand there playing Conan all night?”
Astaroth chuckled and switched his blade to his left hand. “I won’t underestimate you again, little one. It’s a pity you have chosen to stand with your mother instead of your father. You’re a miracle.”
“My father was a cop. Strohm was just a mosquito that happened to bite my mother, nothing more,” Raven said.
Astaroth’s face darkened and he stepped forward, his sword held at the ready. He approached more cautiously this time and Raven watched him. His moves were different, more like a swordsman and less like a raging Scot on an ancient battlefield.
Shit… he’s left handed, Raven realized.
She switched her grip on her katana just as Astaroth attacked, his notched blade a shimmer of silver as he cut for her head. Raven blocked and blocked again, sparks dancing around her and her opponent as they circled. She refused to back away and was cut several times for her stubbornness. She ignored the blood oozing from her arms and torso and kept fighting, searching for an opening. When she saw it she didn’t hesitate. She blocked Astaroth’s attack at her side with her blade and spun into his guard, her elbow catching him in the nose and making him stagger. She then pirouetted and slashed, her sword cutting through his neck. Blood fountained and Astaroth stumbled backwards to fall on his rear, his blade clattering on the floor as he tried to keep his head attached to his neck. He gagged on the blood filling his mouth and made an attempt to speak, but Raven refused to listen. She lashed out with her right boot and kicked the vampire’s head from his shoulders. Both his head and body exploded into flame and ash that fell to the marble floor like black snow, swirling around Raven’s legs.
Raven dropped her sword and continued toward Francois who was standing just where she’d left him. She pulled her Automag from beneath her jacket and aimed at Francois who straightened in surprise. Behind her Valentina began shouting something, but Raven kept walking. She’d had enough. She squeezed the Automag’s trigger over and over again, each round punching a hole in the wall around Francois. She ejected the magazine when she reached him and rammed another one home, her glowing green eyes never leaving his.
“Let me make this clear to everyone present,” she snarled. “Obviously I didn’t get my point across last night. Lady Valentina is the Mistress of the City by right of ascension and right of conquest. She continues to hold that position because I killed Lord Strohm and gifted his ashes to her as her Fürstin. Strohm is dead. I held his burning skull in my hand. Now, only one among you is a Master. Unless you, Francois Lord Du Guerre are going to place a challenge right here, right now, I expect you all to pledge your allegiance to the Lady of the Night as required by the Totentanz. This fighting can’t continue and I would just as soon start shooting now rather than later.”
“I have no intention of fighting you or making a challenge, Ravenel,” Francois said.
“Except you just did with that Astaroth nonsense,” Raven replied. “If he’d backed out I’d have been fighting you. And believe me, nothing would make me happier than to blow your smirking head off.”
She turned to everyone in attendance, meeting their eyes as she turned, her Automag held at her side. One by one the vampires stepped forward and knelt, pledging their allegiance to Lady Tempeste before filing out of the ballroom to disappear into the night.
Raven turned back to Francois. “Well? Are you going to pledge your allegiance to Mother or am I going to be sweeping you up with a dustpan?”
Francois fiddled with his sword for a moment, his eyes locked on Raven’s. After a moment he bowed and walked toward the seated Lady Valentina. Raven followed, her finger tight on the trigger of her Automag.
Du Guerre stopped a few paces from Lady Tempeste, knelt and held his sword in his hands. “I pledge my fealty to you, Lady Tempeste, and beg forgiveness for my actions this night.”
Valentina took a sip from her goblet and examined Du Guerre as if he were a butterfly under glass.
Theater, Raven thought. Vampires and their bloody theater.
Finally Valentina spoke. “You are forgiven and your loyalty accepted, Lord Du Guerre. You are dismissed.”
Du Guerre kissed Valentina’s ring and stood. He half bowed to Raven and exited, his boots ringing on the floor. Valentina waited until Du Guerre was gone before turning her attention to Raven.
“I can’t say I am thrilled with your methods, my daughter,” she said. “But well done. You may have brought us a measure of peace.”
“It was worth a try, Mother,” Raven replied. “I’m getting sick of vampire politics and infighting.”
“As am I, Ravenel. My daughter, did you really mean I should find another Fürstin?”
Raven sighed and holstered her Automag. “No, Mother. No one will protect you as well as I do. But I do ask you remember I am your child first and your Fürstin second. I don’t like being treated like some sort of lap dog who comes when she’s called. If I am nothing to you but your Fürstin then I have no reason to be here.”
Valentina paled and raised a hand to her mouth. Dominique placed a calming hand on Valentina’s shoulder. “What do you mean, Ravenel?”
“I mean I remain Fürstin because I love my mother, not because I believe in those ridiculous laws of the night,” Raven said. “If Mother doesn’t return my feelings, then it is time for me to move out and get on with my life. I have a job to do and a life of my own.”
“Ravenel…” Valentina started.
Raven threw her hands up in disgust and exited the ball room muttering, “My name is Raven. You’re my mother. You would think you could at least get that right.”
DAWN ROSE AND RAVEN LOOKED out the window and over the estate grounds. Everything was bathed in the glow of a pink sun. She was grateful there would only be a few more days of the weird sky before things went back to normal.
With a sigh she closed the curtains and got dressed for the day. When she headed out, it was in a pair of slim-fitting leather pants, a silk tank top and a light sweater that helped conceal her pistol in a paddle holster on her right hip. She donned black leather boots and slid her silvered knives into the concealed sheaths before topping the outfit with a silver ponytail clip and a black leather jacket.
She left the estate quietly and motored toward the city, heavy metal playing on her stereo and her mind on her interrogation with Caito.
When she reached Bronzeville she called ahead to records and had her father’s file moved to her desk. She was hoping Caito could shed light on both cases.
The city was busy getting ready for the day and Raven had to slow down, even stopping at red lights. She glared at them and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel while she waited for the lights to change.
It was half past seven when the Shelby cruised past the front of the district house. She was surprised to see a classic black Lincoln limousine parked in the no parking zone in front of the building and she slowed to take a look. The windows were tinted, but her vampire eyes told her only the driver was inside.
She rolled past and pulled into a spot behind the building next to Levac’s Nash. She hurried up the steps to the office. It was strangely quiet an
d the lights were out, only coming on when the sensors detected her presence. She frowned, but proceeded to her desk where Levac had left her a chocolate donut covered in sprinkles and a cup of her favorite coffee. She picked up the donut and put it aside with distaste before popping the top on the coffee and taking a long sip.
She took a seat and rifled through the thick file a records clerk had left for her. Mason Storm was the name on the folder. Her father had held many nicknames in his lifetime, including Lucifer, but Mason Storm was the name he was buried under.
She read through both Lieutenant Frost’s notes as well as her own from when she’d reopened the case when she had first made detective. All the indications had been that he was killed by someone he knew; someone who had access to the Shelby and the police-issue revolver that was locked in the trunk in the original box.
Out of curiosity, Raven opened her laptop and checked through the files there. After a little digging she was able to connect Rayne DeGrey, a madam Raven had taken down a few months previously, through her own father’s intermediaries to No Nose DiFronzo. DeGrey’s father had been taken down by Mason Storm. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to connect the dots. It was a good bet that DiFronzo had something to do with Mason Storm’s death. But he hadn’t been the trigger man. Perhaps Caito had been? It seemed unlikely, he wasn’t old enough and was new in town according to his background check.
“Ray?” Levac called, pushing through the office’s main doors.
Raven smiled. “Hey Rupe, where have you been? This place is like a ghost town.”
“Nobody is in yet,” Levac said. “And we’ve got problems. Two of the rookies turned up dead behind Luigi’s this morning and No Nose is here with his cronies demanding the release of his son and Caito. He says that he’s heard more cops will die if his boy isn’t released by noon.”
“Heard? My ass he’s heard. The fat bastard ordered the hit. Who is taking their case?”