Stormwind (The Storm Chronicles Book 3)

by Skye Knizley

  Frowning, she turned down the corridor checking the doors on either side of her. The first two bedrooms were neatly decorated in white leather and silver satin, but held neither signs of use nor the personal touches that indicate someone has been staying in the room.

  The third room was decorated tastefully in black and gold with an oriental flare that included rice paper screens, katanas, black lacquered boxes containing secret treasures and a circular bed covered in black and gold satin. Unlike the living room, the bedroom appeared untouched for the most part, however Raven noted that both a katana and a pair of tanto knives were missing from Karina’s collection. She took a photograph of the stand and examined the remaining blades. They’d been made by master sword maker Hansu. Real swords, not cheap Little China replicas. A robbery with a side of kidnapping? That made no sense; nothing had been taken from the other scenes.

  Raven turned and walked across the hall into Evangelina’s private chamber. This room smelled of freshly turned earth and was sparsely decorated with black drapes, red candles on iron pillars and an ebony coffin. An antique armoire stood in the corner, the doors ajar. Evangelina had probably left it open when she got dressed.

  Raven took pictures of the room and walked back into the hallway. She closed her eyes and awakened her vampire. When she opened them again she could see the room as if it were lit by candlelight. Evangelina’s scent, heavy with blood, hung in the air like a brick, underlined by Karina’s more delicate floral scent. Raven followed Karina’s scent down the corridor and to the door where two more scents joined the young Asian girl’s. Both smelled of meat and wet dog. Their scents mingled then went back out the door and down the secure staircase. Raven was certain they’d had a vehicle waiting. With any luck it would be on the surveillance footage.

  She locked Evangelina’s apartment and turned to the door across the hall. She knocked politely and waited. After a few minutes a middle aged woman with her brown and grey hair held back in a bun answered the door. She pulled her purple robe around herself and looked up at Raven. “Do you know what time it is?”

  Raven smiled. “Yes ma’am and I apologize. I’m detective Raven Storm and I am investigating the disappearance of the young woman across the hall. I understand you heard a disturbance this morning?”

  Tabor nodded. “Lina and Karina can get a bit loud, but nothing like this. It sounded like they were fighting. I could hear Karina yelling in Chinese, but I didn’t understand what she said. I called security to investigate and they said everything was fine.”

  “Can you repeat the Chinese you heard?”

  Tabor shrugged. “Well, it sounded like Lan Gren and xuè yuèliàng. Does that mean anything?”

  “Yes ma’am, it does,” Raven replied. “You’ve been very helpful. I’m sorry to disturb you so late. Goodnight.”

  Raven turned and hurried to the elevators. Minutes later she was back in the lobby with the guard, whose name turned out to be Kevin. He’d queued up the video and the pair sat behind the desk to watch it on a small monitor. The video mainly showed men and women, many of whom Raven recognized as familiars, carrying goods up and down the stairs. However at 11:48 a.m. two men in white coveralls carrying a large white tarp and painter’s tool belts entered through the south entrance. The men were approximately the same height and both had blonde hair and wore sunglasses that hid most of their features. Neither man looked familiar.

  The pair returned to the stairs at 12:02 p.m. carrying the same tarp, though it looked somewhat thicker. Raven slowed the video and looked closely for anything that would identify the men with no luck. She could, however, see strands of long dark hair hanging from the tarp. She could also see a white van parked just beyond the door. She wrote down the partial plate and smiled with satisfaction. She then ejected the disk and stuck it inside her jacket. “Thank you, Kevin. I will let Evangelina know how helpful you’ve been.”

  Kevin bowed. “Not at all, Fürstin. It has been my pleasure to serve.”

  Raven bowed from the neck and headed back to the parked Shelby. On the way across the garage she called in to her mother and confirmed Karina had been kidnapped by unknown parties. She also suggested, much to her own displeasure, that Evangelina be offered a room with a guard, just in case. When she ended that call she put in a call to dispatch and gave a description of the men, the vehicle and the partial plate. Maybe they’d get lucky.

  A few minutes later the Shelby drifted out onto North State Street and headed toward Old Town. While she drove Raven used her free hand to feed Thad’s specials into her pistol’s empty magazines.

  Half an hour later she pulled up to the curb outside Club Purgatory. She climbed out and shook her head at the line of vampire, Goth and emo kids waiting to get in. No matter how many places opened, Purgatory was the place to be.

  Raven walked past the line and climbed the short staircase to the door. A vampire bouncer Raven recognized as Verde stood at the top taking covers and stamping hands. He smiled when Raven approached and held the heavy plastic curtain aside. “Good to see you, Ms. Raven. Welcome to Purgatory.”

  “Hi, Verde, it’s nice to see you too. Is Pashta in?” Raven asked.

  Verde nodded. “Yes ma’am, she tending bar as usual.”

  “Thanks. Listen, Verde, I have a feeling you may want to get the straights back from the door,” Raven said. “I have to talk to someone who might not want to talk to me.”

  Verde nodded. “Not Pashta though?”

  Raven laughed. “Of course not. Anyone who hurts Pashta answers to me.”

  She turned and passed through the curtain and down the short hallway. Pashta had installed a revolving tunnel around the entrance giving the feeling you were walking through the Veil to get into the club. It was eerie and thrilling at the same time. Pashta had really brought the club up without losing the regular clientele.

  Raven stepped off the catwalk and approached the coat and weapons check. She showed the petite young vampire her badge and passed through another rubber curtain into the club proper.

  The layout of the bar had changed, with the main bar now being located along the far wall. It was home to three trained bartenders who made slinging booze an art form and show in itself. Where the bar used to be was now a caged-in stage where local bands kicked out the latest in heavy metal and between the two was a dance floor surrounded by private booths where bar food, but excellent bar food, was served to snuggling couples.

  Pashta had also added a partial second floor that consisted of a wide metal catwalk. Café tables had been placed discretely around the metal floor allowing a little more privacy and an excellent view of the club below. When Raven stopped in for a drink she usually took one of the corner tables where she could see everything. But she wasn’t interested in a table. Instead she walked straight to the bar where Pashta was juggling four bottles at once, somehow getting the alcohol into glasses without spilling a drop. Her long pink dreads stood out from her head like she’d been shocked and she was wearing silver leathers that displayed her glistening ebony skin to the fullest.

  Pashta must have spotted Raven approaching because she winked, shelved the bottles she was juggling and poured a cranberry club soda from Raven’s secret stash of unmarked cans. Raven reached across the bar and clasped arms with her old friend before sipping from the glass.

  “It’s good to see you, Ray. How’re things down at the 42nd?” Pashta asked.

  Raven put her glass down and shrugged. “Working on a new case that has me aggravated, but that really isn’t anything new. Most murders aggravate me.”

  “Working? Then where is that partner of yours?” Pashta asked.

  “He’s taking the night off,” Raven replied in a tone that invited no further comment.

  “Okay…” Pashta said. “I’m guessing this isn’t a social call then, what I can I do to help?”

  “Are the lycans in tonight?”

  Pashta jerked her head toward a shadowy booth in the farthest corner of the club. “Yeah. Th
ey’re lurking back there gnawing on mutton and snarling at everyone like always, why?”

  “Have they seemed any weirder than usual?” Raven asked.

  Pashta shook her head. “How do you get weirder than acting like a wild animal in public?”

  Raven stared at Pashta for a beat. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Um…no probably not,” Pashta replied. “They have been flashing more cash than usual, if that helps at all.”

  Raven slipped two hundred dollar bills under her half-full glass and turned toward the booth Pashta had indicated. She passed through the dance floor, occasionally pushing people who got too close out of her way. Her glare was enough to keep anyone from complaining.

  On the far side of the floor she stepped into the gloom and blinked, bringing her vampire sight to life. She could see the lycans sitting around their table, their ratty leather and denim stained with mutton and blood. As before, the Alpha sat in the middle with his mate while the rest of the pack sat further away with the two Omega females kneeling like slaves at the end of the booth. Raven stepped forward and pulled two large mutton chops off the platter on the table and handed them to the Omegas before turning her attention to the Alpha. He brushed his long brown hair away from his face with one hand and glared at the dhampyr.

  “Hello, Tate. Miss me?”

  Tate crushed the steel goblet he’d been holding, spilling wine all over his female, who squealed in annoyance. “How dare you, dhampyr?”

  “I don’t like to see anyone being treated like you treat Laren and Kiyu. They’re people you infected, not animals,” Raven replied. “If you want to stop me, you’re welcome to try. And don’t even think about punishing them for my act. I’ll pull your head off and hang it outside the Mistress’ home.”

  Tate folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. “We shall see. What is it you want, Fürstin?”

  Raven glared at one of the werewolves until he stood and let her sit at the booth. “Mm, freedom for Omegas, world peace and anything you can tell me about a pair of lycans abducting a vampire familiar around noon today.”

  “Omegas know their place, I couldn’t care less about the world outside my territory and none of my pack would be stupid enough to kidnap a familiar,” Tate replied. “That would violate the treaty and lead to war.”

  Raven nodded and toyed with a piece of mutton. “It would. Do you know of any other packs in town or anyone running freelance?”

  “The only pack in Chicago is mine,” Tate growled. “This is my territory. We are one hundred strong.”

  “That’s pretty impressive for someone with the IQ of a potato,” Raven replied. “Are you sure you’ve got them all under your thumb?”

  Tate’s eyes took on the golden glow of his wolf and he leaned forward, close enough Raven could smell the blood on his breath. “I said they are mine!”

  Raven’s hand moved like quicksilver. She grabbed Tate by the throat and dragged him over the table, spinning so she had one knee on his chest and her Automag aimed at his head.

  “I warned you before about getting in my face, Lycan. Let me make this clear. Two weres kidnapped a familiar named Karina. If your pack didn’t do it, another group of lycans did. Are you sure you don’t know anything useful? You’re flashing an awful lot of green for a potato.”

  “My pack is not involved, dhampyr,” Tate replied. “And I am tired of being insulted in front of my pack.”

  Raven thumbed back the Automag’s hammer. “I’m not sure what you’re going to do about it, Tate. You move and I’m going to vaporize that big cute noggin of yours.”

  She could see the anger in the lycan’s eyes, but she could also see he was smart enough not to make a move against a Fürstin; especially one who had a massive pistol aimed at his head.

  “That’s what I thought. I’m going to ask you for two things under the Treaty, for which I will pay you. One, if you hear of any other pack or any lycans running free you will contact me immediately. And two, either let your Omegas go or treat them like the rest of your pack. I will not tolerate you treating them like slaves. Are we clear?”

  Tate nodded and Raven straightened. Tate stood and she handed him a small bag of gold from inside her jacket.

  “A token of my family’s appreciation. Spend it wisely,” Raven said.

  Tate stuffed the bag into his jacket and Raven pushed past him, headed for the bar.

  “That looked like it went better than expected,” Pashta said, meeting Raven at the end of the bar.

  Raven nodded and glanced back at Tate, who was staring holes in the back of her head. “Maybe. He’s hiding something though. His clothes smell like an outhouse, but under the stink I could smell fear. He’s involved in what I’m working on or knows who is and it scares him. He’s a moron, but he’s smart enough to know what’s at stake.”

  “So what are you going to do now?” Pashta asked.

  Raven sipped from her glass. “I shook the tree. I’m going to go home and see if anything falls out.”

  “Be careful, Ravenel,” Pashta said. “Tate and his pack can be dangerous.”

  “I know,” Raven replied. “But I need answers.”

  She leaned across the bar and kissed Pashta’s cheek before exiting the club, all the while feeling Tate’s eyes on her.

  RAVEN WOKE TO THE SUN shining through her drapes, its reddish light glaring at her like an angry eye. She pulled a pillow over her head and checked the time on her phone. It was almost ten in the morning. She groaned and sat up, not caring that the pillow fell on the floor. She glared back at the bothersome red sun and pulled the curtains closed. She then staggered off to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

  When she left the bathroom an hour later she was dressed in a pair of black leather jeans tucked into a pair of stylish but functional boots and a pair of layered tank-tops, one gray and one black under a thin white tunic that hung low enough to cover the Automag holstered at the small of her back.

  She was hurrying down the steps when her phone went off.

  She fished it out and answered, “Storm.”

  “Good morning, Detective, getting a late start?” Lieutenant Frost said.

  “Hey, Chris. Lay off, I was out late following up on a possible lead in the skinner case. What’s up?”

  “Zhu has a report for you on the second vic. Highlights include the same salt being used in both murders, same tool marks in her muscles, too. He guesses she was killed with a bone spear of some kind and he places the age of the weapon somewhere close to five hundred years.”

  “You didn’t call to give me Zhu’s report,” Raven said, blowing a kiss to Dominique on her way to the garage.

  “Victim number three was found this morning, another female. She was left in plain sight hanging from a lamp post outside Club Purgatory. Sanchez is already there with the CSI unit.”

  “Sanchez? This is mine and Levac’s case.”

  Raven could hear the discomfort in Frost’s voice. “Not anymore. Rupert asked to be reassigned this morning. I gave him a week off instead. For now you’re working with Sanchez. Try not to get the kid killed.”

  Raven nodded and ended the call, feeling numb. She choked back tears and continued into the garage where the Shelby waited.

  The drive into Old Town was a blur of traffic and memories. She and Levac had piled up a huge collection and every single one seemed to want come to the surface at the same time. She fought the rising tide and, by the time she pulled to the curb outside Club Purgatory she was her old self with thoughts of Levac pushed into the same corner of her mind where Wilson and the others lived.

  She climbed out of the car, her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses, and approached the crime scene. Two officers raised the tape for her, but she barely glanced at them, her eyes and mind locked on the blood smeared tarp ahead of her. Pocock was hovering over the corpse taking samples while Sanchez stood by taking notes and looking green. There was a stain on the lapel of his dark green suit where he’d already bee
n sick once and his tie was missing, likely a casualty to the same incident.

  “What have we got, Rook?” Raven asked, ignoring the detective’s unease.

  “Another female victim,” Sanchez said, his notebook shaking in his hands. “It looks like she was killed by a single deep thrust to her abdomen. She would have died slowly and painfully from the wound.”

  “Harvey?” Raven asked.

  “Sanchez is right. The cut is deep enough to have lacerated most of her lower organs, but not deep enough to kill her outright. She’d have lived through this until she bled out, fifteen or twenty minutes later.”

  “Any other trauma?” Raven asked.

  “Oh yeah, this little girl was a fighter. Four broken fingers, broken collarbone and a broken tailbone, all hours before death,” Pocock replied. “Whatever happened she fought back hard.”

  Raven frowned and knelt next to the small woman. She had died with her jaw locked in pain and it still held that position even hours after death. But it was her eyes that drew Raven in. Eyes she’d looked into just a few days before.

  “Karina,” she said softly.

  “Beg pardon?” Sanchez asked.

  “Karina Tsukino,” Raven replied. “She was the servant to someone I know. She went missing yesterday morning.”

  “Another case you’re working?” Sanchez asked. “Frost didn’t mention anything.”

  “It wasn’t really any of your business until now, Rookie,” Raven replied. “We’re looking for a white van and two thugs posing as workmen. I gave a partial plate to dispatch last night, but nothing so far. The plates probably don’t go to a van.”

  She turned her attention back to Harvey. “I want a run up as soon as possible, including a time of death. And ask Ming to run a toxicology screen. Something kept her quiet and docile while they carried her down nineteen flights of stairs. I want to know what was used.”

  “I’m not sure what we might find, Detective,” Pocock replied. “Most of her blood went down the sewer.”