by Skye Knizley
“Why is your father brooding?” Archer asked.
Raven looked where Archer indicated. Storm was leaning against the wall, his eyes hooded and angry.
“I never said he was my father,” Raven said. “Where is this Karayan, I’m missing my beauty sleep.”
“You don’t have to, Miss Storm, it’s obvious. This way, if you please.”
Archer led them down the corridor and through several large chambers until they reached a pair of ornate double doors near the middle of the house. The three-headed dog Cerberus was carved across them with what looked like human entrails dripping from all three snapping jaws. The sound of violin music echoed from the chamber beyond. Archer pushed open the doors and entered without a backward glance.
“Lord Karayan, may I present the legendary Wulf Saxon, also known as Mack Mason, and Miss Raven Storm.”
The throne room was massive, rivaling Valentina’s at the Manor. The floor was polished granite while the walls were of some kind of dark wood that Raven didn’t recognize. Far above was a tinted glass dome slowly being covered by fresh-fallen snow.
In the center of the room was a throne made of steel and bone. It was an ornate monstrosity that Raven knew Valentina would one day have burned and melted down into scrap that would form Strohm’s coffin. Seated on the atrocity was a tall, thin man with long blond hair that hung nearly to his waist. He wore a red smoking jacket matched with black slacks bloused into ornate boots with chiseled silver tips. He was lounging with one leg over the throne’s arm and one hand on a glass of Claret that rested beside him.
Storm paused outside the door and looked at Raven. “Try not to say anything stupid.”
He then continued through the doors. “Karayan, Archer tells me you have need of my services. How can I serve you, Lord?”
Raven followed, taking in everything. In the shadows beyond the candlelit throne were dozens of vampires in various stages of undress. They were feeding on humans chained to the floor, naked and helpless. They were mixed in with older vampires wearing black uniforms holding what she recognized as German MP38 submachine guns. What were those doing here?
Karayan sat up. “Ah, Wulf, thank you for coming. I do, indeed have need of you. But first, Archer tells me you have a daughter. This I must see.”
“The girl is none of your concern,” Storm said.
Karayan stood so fast it was almost levitation. “I will be the judge of that, Wulf. Remember who holds your leash!”
He brushed past Storm, and approached Raven, who stopped.
“I must tell you, girl, Archer’s mental image hardly did you justice. I can’t say much for your taste in clothing, but your curves are delicious,” he said.
He reached for Raven the same way Archer had. Raven stepped back and shook her head. “You can look, but don’t touch. What do you want?”
“You’re right, Archer. She’s feisty. I like it!”
Karayan snapped his fingers. In an instant one of the shadowed vampires stepped out and placed what looked to Raven like some kind of branding iron in his hand.
“We have a problem, Miss Storm. You are in my domain, yet neither swore me fealty nor registered. I keep track of every preternatural within my realm, I’m sure you understand,” Karayan said.
Raven shook her head. “I’m not swearing fealty to you. I am the Fürstin of another Master. I apologize for being within your domain without notice, but my business was…unexpected.”
Karayan paused. “Fürstin? Girl, no one has used that title in a hundred years. There are no champions, only Masters, Purebloods and Embraced. Who do you claim as your Master?”
“None of your business. Tell us what you want and we’ll be on our way.”
“Don’t touch her, Karayan,” Storm warned.
“You have no authority here, Wulf,” Karayan said without turning. “Your king is long dead and you swore fealty to me. Do not make me punish you.”
He smiled and raised the iron in his hand, which was beginning to glow red. “You will swear fealty to me, and I will brand you as mine. Your name and blood will be registered, and then you will join your father on a task for me. It is a simple procedure, guards, if you please?”
Raven rolled her eyes and drew her blades. They slid out of the thigh sheaths with a whisper of sound and she stepped back with the points reversed. The tips pierced the two guard’s chests and found their hearts with unerring accuracy. Both vampire’s froze, their mouths O’s of pain and terror. Raven held them there while she met Karayan’s eyes, then jerked the blades free. The vampires dissolved into ash and Raven unleashed her monster.
“I told you, I’m not swearing fealty to you, Karayan. I will kill you and anyone else who tries to lay a hand on me, I promise you,” she said.
Karayan’s pale face twisted into a mask of rage. He pointed a clawed finger at her and screamed, “You should have taught your offspring to respect her elders, Wulf. Guards! Kill her!”
Vampires stepped out of the shadows, submachine guns and swords at the ready. MP38s chattered, spitting flame and hot lead into the walls and floor where Raven had been standing. She rolled and flipped out of the way then rose like wraith, using her blades on the nearest vampires. Two fell screaming as they turned to ash and she drew her pistol, adding its thunder to the flat crack of the submachine guns. Vampires, Embraced and Pureblood, dropped with every shot, leaving their weapons to clatter to the floor.
More guards appeared and Raven fell to her knees, sliding through the ash that covered the floor. Bullets whizzed and snapped past her head and she kicked out at the newcomers with the heel of her boots. The nearest screamed in pain and she jerked his weapon from his hands, then fired it point blank into him and his companion. She didn’t have time to see them fall, however, as more were coming at every moment from the hallway and far doors. They didn’t seem to care who they hit, either, they fired indiscriminately into the crowd as Raven rolled and ducked between members of court. Bystanders exploded and showered her with ash as she ran, almost blinding her.
“Some Master,” she muttered, reloading her pistol. “Karayan is a psycho.”
She rose and shot the next three guards in succession then dragged an innocent pureblood man out of the way of the guards at the opposite door, saving his life. He screamed in terror and Raven felt the heat of more bullets pass her arm and face leaving millimeters to spare. This had to end before she or more innocent people were killed. Raven dove forward and slid face first along the tiles until she could see Karayan. Two well-placed shots turned his knees to goo and he fell, clutching his ruined joints and wailing in pain.
“I could have killed you, Karayan,” Raven called, taking cover behind a pillar. “Tell your guards to surrender, I really don’t want to dethrone you tonight!”
“It is you who should surrender,” Archer said. “You’re killing your father!”
Raven peered out from behind her cover. Storm was on his knees, his sword held in limp fingers. His face was a mask of agony and blood poured from his mouth where it ran down his neck and stained his shirt crimson. Raven snarled in fury and shot another vampire, then ran to Storm’s side.
“Mason? Dad, what’s happening?”
There was no sign of a wound, no injury she could treat, just blood, dark and thick.
“I hold his leash,” Archer said from the shadows. “Eject the magazine, holster that weapon and raise your hands or I will end his miserable existence!”
Raven’s vampire sight detected Archer in the gloom, a red and orange figure with his back to her. He clutched something she couldn’t see in his hands and she could feel magik, dark and thick, hanging in the air. Raven’s instinct was to put a bullet in his head, but she couldn’t risk it without knowing what he was doing. She pointed her weapon at Karayan and arched an eyebrow.
“Let Mason go or I turn your Master into a pile of ash!”
He half turned in the darkness and yellow light spilled from his eyes like fine mist. “I know, you’re thinking he’s immortal, he can survive anything. But his life can still be snuffed out, do you really want to see him die? Really want to risk that he will come back?”
Raven looked at Storm and the look of agony on his face. The decision was easy. She ejected the magazine from her pistol, holstered the weapon and laced her hands on her head. “Fine, let him go!”
Archer turned and Raven could see he was holding some kind of doll in his hands. It was made of white rag, with black yarn for hair and a heart made of red chalk. It glowed with Archer’s magik and seemed to be almost alive. Archer giggled with mad glee and twisted the doll’s head. Beside her, Storm screamed in agony, a sound that broke Raven’s heart. She’d never heard him cry out before.
“Let him go, dammit!” she yelled.
Archer threw back his head and laughed again, a cackle the seemed to go on forever, echoing off the walls of the chamber. When it faded, he squatted beside Raven, his eyes still glowing with power.
“Swear your fealty!”
He squeezed the doll again, Making Storm fall limply into Raven’s arms.
Raven shook her head. “I can’t!”
Archer slapped her with an open hand. “You will, or he dies!”
Raven looked back at him, fury in her eyes. “If he dies, so do you. I will destroy your whole insane clan!”
Archer paused and the dark magik he was using began to fade. “I doubt you could, but you have already surprised me twice−”
Raven moved so fast she was nothing but a blur. In a smooth motion she drew Storm’s Colt and pressed the bloody barrel to Archer’s forehead.
“Three times. You kill him, I spray your brains all over the wall and light a cigarette on your ashes. Your move, pal.”
She cocked back the hammer and waited, staring into Archer’s eyes.
Archer flashed his strange smile. “If I had ten of you, lycans would never be a problem again. Agree to work with Wulf on this case and I let you both go free.”
Storm groaned and more blood spilled from his lips, dark as heartsblood. Raven looked at him and his pale, clammy skin and nodded.
“Agreed. Let him go and I will drop the pistol.”
Archer raised his hands and the magik faded, along with the strange light in his eyes. Raven raised her borrowed pistol and stuck it in her belt.
“Now what?”
Archer handed the poppet to a taller gentlemen who reminded Raven of Stan Laurel, and dusted his hands. “It will be some time before Wulf recovers from his spanking. You can examine the crime scene while he recovers.”
He turned his attention to the taller man. “Stefan, get this cleaned up and take Mr. Saxon to the recovery room, will you? Then meet me and Ms. Storm in the tea room.”
Stefan bowed. “What about Karayan, Lord?”
Archer shrugged. “He failed in his duty. Kill him and choose another, a decent actor this time.”
Stefan smiled and drew his pistol. Karayan tried to back away, but his ruined knees made it impossible.
“No, wait! I’ve never let you down before!”
Stefan stood over him. “Once is enough, Johnathan.”
Raven looked down at Mason. It was impossible to save everyone and ‘Karayan’ had tried to kill her. One less sociopathic vampire wasn’t a bad thing. She didn’t flinch when Stefan fired or when Karayan screamed and burned away to nothing. When it was over, she picked Storm up and cradled him in her arms. He was lighter than she expected, what had Archer done to him?
“Where is this recovery room?” she asked.
Archer took his glasses off and polished them with a cloth from his sleeve. “Stefan will handle that, you have work to do.”
Raven held Storm tighter, no one was going to touch him. “I will carry Mason, then we can talk about this job of yours.”
Archer put his glasses back on and pushed them up his nose with one long finger. “Stubborn as your father. As you wish, follow me.”
Raven followed Archer through the maze of corridors of the west wing and into a large bedroom decorated all in white save for a large Philco radio playing soft jazz. Raven placed Storm on the bed and checked his pulse. It was weak, but there. Anyone else would have been dead by now. She pulled his pistol from her waistband and placed it beside his left hand.
“Okay, let’s talk.”
Archer smiled. “This way.”
The Tea Room, as Archer called it, was a parlor off the great hall. The walls were lined with bookshelves heavy with antique tomes and gruesome paintings of torture Raven didn’t bother to examine closely. They were the same kind of trash used by many Masters to frighten and impress. Raven was neither, and she couldn’t be more disgusted.
Other furnishings included four leather chairs, two side tables and a desk big enough for the President to have sex behind.
Raven took a seat in one of the chairs and put a fresh magazine into her pistol.
“Planning to shoot me, Ms. Storm?” Archer asked.
Raven chambered a round and put the weapon back in her holster. “Eventually. I’m getting bored, Archer. What’s this job?”
Archer sat opposite her and thumbed through a leather folder, placing a selection of photos on the wooden table between them. Raven picked up one of the photos, which showed a tall, thin man with greying hair and a thin mustache. He wore a grey suit, white shirt, black tie and a fedora that looked too small for his head. In the image he was behind a sales counter between a cash register and display of questionable antiques.
“This is Napoleon Lash, a man of my acquaintance. He runs an antiques shop on the edge of Covenant Garden,” Archer said.
Raven was blank. “Covenant Garden?”
Archer gave her a look. “Where are you from, again?”
Before she could answer, he waved away the question. “Never mind. Covenant Garden is where vampires, lycans and other preternaturals can let their hair down. No police, no prying eyes, just freedom. I am sure your own has a similar district.”
“Who protects the humans that wander in?”
Archer raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”
Raven leaned closer. “Who keeps the predators from preying when humans enter the district?”
“The Totentanz, surely you’ve heard of it, Fürstin? By law we prey only on those who will not be missed,” Archer said.
“Swell. Do you enforce the law? Or do you just take a bloodsucker’s word?”
Archer’s face darkened. “I enforce it if necessary.”
He placed more photos on the table. “These were taken a few hours ago by local detectives.”
The photos showed Lash lying on the sidewalk in a pool of drying blood. At least, Raven presumed it was Lash, it was hard to tell. It looked as if someone had burned his face off with a torch.
“What happened to him?” Raven asked.
“That’s the job. Mr. Lash was a member of our community, I want to know what happened to him and, more importantly, why,” Archer said.
Raven looked at the photo again. “Who’s familiar is he?”
“No one’s,” Archer said. “He’s a Bori.”
“A Bori? The shapeshifters?”
Archer smiled. “Indeed, you know your job, Ms. Storm. Mr. Lash was capable of taking both his natural cloven shape as well as a python and goat.”
Raven rubbed her eyes. “The only way to kill them is fire.”
Archer clapped his hands like he was at a gold tournament. “Correct again! You really are just cute as a button, Fürstin. Mr. Lash kept his origin a closely guarded secret, I wan
t to know who found out and why they killed him.”
“What about the police?”
“They are off the case, Ms. Storm. We take care of our own and they have Nazi sympathizers to contend with. His body is in the morgue, the evidence will be at your father’s room by morning,” Archer said.
Raven looked at another of the images. It showed a close up of Lash’s face, which looked like burned barbecue. “Can I see the crime scene?”
“Of course you can, Ms. Storm. I will have Mr. Blake take you, or I can lend you a car if you know how to drive.”
Raven stood. “I drive, but I’m not familiar with Covenant Garden. What about Mason?”
Archer looked at his watch. “It will be a few hours yet before he’s up and about.”
He stood and motioned to the door. “I assure you, no harm will come to him. We have an accord and I am a man of my word.”
Raven stepped through the door. “You’re a vampire, Archer, not a man at all. An Embraced, if I’m any judge, which is why you have someone pretend to be the Master.”
Archer stared at her, then flashed another quick smile. “You are very clever, Ms. Storm. I shall keep an eye on you.”
“That’s only fair. Step out of line and they’ll be sweeping you to your funeral.”
Archer bowed and rang a bell beside the door. Serafino appeared from one of the adjoining rooms and held a whispered conversation with Archer before leaving again.
“He will find Blake,” Archer said. “Can I get you anything?”
“I would kill for a cheeseburger and fries,” Raven replied.
“Really?”
Raven shrugged. “I get hungry after a fight.”
Archer made a face. “I suppose I could ask the kitchen, it isn’t the kind of thing we normally have on hand, but I can make an exception.”
“Forget it, how ‘bout a coke?” Raven asked.
Archer closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “What, may I ask, is a coke?”
Raven rolled her eyes. “Coca-Cola? Comes in a bottle shaped like a woman’s curves?”