Storm (The Storm Chronicles Book 6)

by Skye Knizley

  A gentle hand touched her elbow and she turned to find Aspen Kincaid standing behind her, two steaming cups in her other hand.

  “Honey? Are you okay?” Aspen asked.

  Raven nodded. “Yeah. Fine. Dad’s apparently going to be okay, too.”

  Aspen set the tray she was carrying on top of a nearby cabinet and took Raven’s injured hand. “Yeah, he’s some kind of Immortal, I heard. I’m glad you didn’t kill him, love.”

  Aspen pulled several pieces of concrete from Raven’s hand then murmured some words Raven could hear, but didn’t understand. The bleeding stopped and she could feel the bones beginning to knit.

  “You’re getting better at healing,” she said.

  Aspen smiled. “The longer I’m beside you, the stronger my magik gets. But try not to punch anymore holes in walls, okay? They’re expensive.”

  Raven smiled. Somehow, Aspen always made her feel better.

  “No promises, Asp, but I’ll try,” she said.

  Aspen let go and picked up the two cups she’d brought. “Hot chocolate, and King has a plane waiting to take us back to Seattle. Or we can go back to the Lennox and you can stay near your dad. Your call. Rupert already headed back to Chicago.”

  Raven took the cup and sipped at the delicious chocolate within. “Why did Rupe go back to Chicago?”

  Aspen looked blank. “Because he lives there?”

  “Right…did he say anything about Sloan?”

  “She’s good, Ray. Rupe just needed to get home to her, he left kind of in a hurry to come cover us,” Aspen said.

  Raven slid down the wall and sat, her cup held in her hands. “When did things get so complicated, Asp?”

  Aspen sat beside her. “It’s not complicated, Ray. Just stirred up, at the moment. In a few days, everything will be back to normal. Or as normal as life gets for us, anyway.”

  Raven looked at her. Aspen, with her lavender hair, amazing eyes and Pagan style; she didn’t know what she would do without her. “Life hasn’t been normal for a long time, has it?”

  Aspen shrugged. “Maybe weird is normal for us. At least it is never boring, right?”

  “No, never boring,” Raven said with a chuckle. “Boring might be a nice change.”

  “Ray, I think you’d go stir crazy in a matter of hours. But if you want a vacation, I got this flyer for a wild west ranch out in Arizona...”

  “What would we do on a wild west ranch?” Raven asked.

  “I don’t know, wild west stuff? Ride horses, rope cattle, sleep under the stars…make love?”

  “It sounds wonderful, Asp,” Raven said. “And I promise, someday soon I will take you on vacation. But I think it is the last thing I need right now. I don’t think I would be very much fun at the moment.”

  She tossed her cup into the nearby receptacle. Aspen held hers up in one hand and looked at Raven, her eyes glowing blue. A second later the cup exploded in a wisp of smoke.

  “And that was?” Raven asked.

  Aspen grinned. “My version of recycling.”

  Raven laughed and climbed to her feet, then helped Aspen to stand.

  “So what now, love? Stay or go home?” Aspen asked.

  Raven looked out the window at Boston. Part of her wanted to stay, to be here when her father regained consciousness. The rest of her had no idea what she would say when he did. She might just end up shooting him again.

  “I’m tired of Boston, let’s go home.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Seattle, Tuesday One Month Later, Midnight.

  Abraham King sat at his desk far below the Seattle FBI field office, lit only by the flickering screen of his laptop. He wasn’t sure what time it was, he’d stopped thinking of things like clocks and sunlight as anything more than weapons years ago. But he’d been sitting alone for hours.

  He reached out with one gnarled hand and nudged his computer’s mouse back to the ‘play’ position and clicked the button. He hated computers; infernal things just this side of unholy. They distracted the living and aided the undead in their march toward the apocalypse, but like many tools he’d used over the decades, it was a necessary evil. The screen flickered and the video began playing. On the screen was the deck of the cruise ship Crescent Star. The wooden floor looked slick with blood, which it likely was. Two of his men had been ripped apart by something that hadn’t appeared on screen. Their flayed bodies, still partially clad in black tactical uniforms, were displayed on the screen for a moment as Special Agent McNally examined them.

  “There isn’t much left, sir,” he said. “Whatever it was, it tore them in half. We think the other parts went overboard. Proceeding forward to the bridge.”

  King fast-forwarded past further scenes of blood and death, all decades old, yet somehow fresh, and resumed play when the team reached the forward deck. They rounded the sundeck pool and started up the stairs to the bridge which sat at the high point of the forward deck. The ship shuddered beneath them as they climbed and McNally grabbed the rail to keep from falling to the deck below. The shuddering ceased and he and what was left of his team resumed their climb to the bridge. At the top of the stairs they spread into a skirmish line, weapons ready. King heard his own voice say, “Use extreme caution, Agent McNally, we don’t know what’s inside.”

  “Confirmed, sir,” McNally replied. “Lila, get the door.”

  Agent Lila Norman, a tall woman with black hair and doll-like eyes, stepped forward and pulled the door open, allowing the rest of the team to enter. The bridge was a scene out of a B-grade horror film. Blood and offal, somehow still wet, hung from the ceiling and coated the controls in thick, scabrous globs. A skull, devoid of flesh, but still wearing a sailor’s cap, was pinned to the wheel with a dagger and the floor was two inches deep in water thick with seaweed, blood, and entrails that sloshed with the ship’s movement. Unlike modern ships that looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, this ship was old and the controls reflected it, with rotary dial shipboard phones and a massive radar-screen that looked like it belonged on the Missouri. Three bodies sat in the command chairs, their uniforms perfectly intact, their skin gone and the meat beneath still slick with blood.

  McNally moved forward, his gun camera panning back and forth. “Sir, are you seeing this?”

  Again King heard his own voice. “I am, Agent McNally. Check the controls, we need to stop the ship before it reaches New York, that is your first priority.”

  “Acknowledged. Lila, get on it. Rand, you’ve got rear guard, I’ll start collecting evidence.”

  King watched the team disperse. McNally moved to stand beside Lila at the controls. She was cleaning blood off of them, one gauge at a time.

  “Can you make anything out of this?” he asked.

  “I can, but most of them are smashed or full of blood,” Lila said. “I’m not sure if I can make this beast respond.”

  “Do what you can. If not, we have to blow it. King wants this ship stopped before it reaches the mainland, and I don’t disagree,” McNally said.

  Lila acknowledged him with a nod and turned back to the controls. McNally watched for a beat then turned to the back of the room, where the captain’s conference room and rest area were. He was reaching for the latch when the ship lurched again, almost spilling him to the deck. A deep, rumbling chorus of unearthly voices cried, “Nolueritis!”

  “What the hell was that?” Lila asked.

  McNally steadied himself and moved back toward the door. “Lila, stick with the controls. Rand, what’s out there?”

  “I’ve got no visual, but I hear movement below,” Rand replied.

  “Check it out, stay in contact, thirty second intervals,” McNally ordered.

  “Right, boss.”

  King watched as Rand disappeared down the steps. A moment later McNally’s camera picked up the sound of gunfire and he ran back to the door
. “Rand! Report!”

  Rand gave a muffled, painful scream. McNally leaned over the railing and his camera light fell on Rand. He was lying in a pool of blood on the deck below, surrounded by shadows.

  “McNally! He’s gone. Pull back and hold the bridge, you have to stop the ship!” King said.

  McNally turned and backed away into the bridge. He closed and locked the hatch then turned to Lila. “Give me good news!”

  Lila shook her head. “Nothing is working. This ship is dead, we have to get out of here!”

  “You will hold your ground, Lila,” McNally roared. “Lives depend on it. Find a way to stop this ship!”

  Lila turned and her face was a mask of terror. “We have to run, flee, before it is too late!”

  “Tempus sero…” the voice rumbled.

  The video feed ended with Lila’s scream.

  King leaned against the desk, staring into nothing. The ship had to be stopped, if it reached the mainland, all hell would break loose. Literally.

  “Orders, sir?” the shadow at his elbow asked.

  “What?” King asked.

  “Are we sending in another team? Or should I ready an airstrike?” the man asked.

  “No. An air strike will just make it worse. Get me Kincaid, and assemble a team to go with her,” King said.

  “Are you sure? Aspen’s not exactly a field agent and Storm isn’t up to—”

  “I want Kincaid and a team on the tarmac in an hour and on that ship in eight, Mr. Kane,” King growled.

  Kane bowed. “Of course sir.”

  King waited until he was gone, then opened the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulled out a bottle of absinthe and a bag of dark vampire blood. He poured two fingers of each into the same glass and downed it in one long swallow. He then set the glass aside.

  “I’m sorry, Raven.”

  II

  Raven Storm sat up in bed, a scream fighting behind her lips. It had happened again; her father in the shadows, the boom of her pistol, and his body dropping. She’d had the nightmare every night since coming home. Her psyche eval was so bad she’d been dropped from field duty and was investigating UFO sightings in Montana. Not her best job ever.

  She slid out of bed and padded toward the stairs. Around her was the loft bedroom she shared with her fiancé, Aspen. The walls were painted a soft lavender that was almost grey and matched the carpet. Their king-size bed was covered with a blue flowered bedspread and the nightstands were antiques sent by Valentina from Chicago.

  Raven ran a hand over the Maltese Falcon poster in the stairwell and turned out of habit to the kitchen, where two scoops of coffee and some hot water soon produced a brew that would be guaranteed to keep her up the rest of the night. She was just sitting down to savor a cup when Aspen’s cell started chirping from its charging plate on the counter.

  Who the hell is calling her at this hour? Raven wondered.

  She picked it up and slid her finger over the screen. “Storm.”

  There was a pause and then, “Agent Storm? Is Aspen Kincaid there?”

  “She’s sleeping, like normal people, who is this?”

  “This is Kane, I’m with Agent in Charge King’s office. Please get her, its important,” Kane said.

  “Who is it?”

  Raven looked up to see Aspen leaning over the upstairs railing, her purple hair trailing around her face.

  “King’s office,” Raven replied.

  Aspen wiped sleep from her eyes. “They have a case for you?”

  Raven shrugged. “It’s for you, probably a crime scene.”

  Aspen hurried down the steps and took the phone.

  “This is Aspen.”

  She listened for a moment, and turned to Raven, eyes wide. She pressed the speaker button and held the phone out. “Mr. Kane, can you say that again?”

  “We have a code thirteen emergency. The cruise ship Crescent Star is carrying an unknown preternatural threat and heading toward New York City. I need you to lead a team onboard and stop it before it reaches the one mile marker. You’ll be briefed enroute.”

  “Kane, this is Storm. Aspen isn’t a field agent, who gave the order?” Raven asked.

  “King, Agent Storm.”

  Aspen shook her head. “He knows I’m not an agent, Kane. I’m a lab-rat, I only go with Raven on certain cases, he can’t—”

  “You have basic field training and he handpicked you, Kincaid. You’re on a chopper in twenty minutes, a car is on the way.”

  “I want to talk to King,” Raven said.

  “He didn’t ask for you, Storm,” Kane said.

  “I don’t give a shit, Mr. Kane,” Raven said. “Code thirteen is the catastrophe code, you’re not sending Aspen—”

  “This conversation is over, Agent Storm. Agent Kincaid, be ready,” Kane said.

  The line went dead. Raven stared at the phone, then looked at Aspen. She was pale and looked frightened, but she swallowed and put on a smile. “Guess I’d better go get ready.”

  Raven shook her head. “You’re not going.”

  Aspen started up the stairs. “I have to, Ray. It’s the catastrophe code. Whatever is out there, it’s bad news. Someone has to stop it and I’m the next best thing besides you.”

  “He can call Sable, she’s a dhampyr,” Raven said.

  “And she’s on assignment with Rupert in Chicago while you recover,” Aspen said. “Besides, you know she isn’t as good as you or me in anything except randomly shooting people. Would you really put something like this in her hands?”

  “I’d rather lose her than lose you,” Raven said.

  Aspen looked back. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, lover.”

  Raven blinked. “That’s not—”

  “What you meant? Yeah, it was. You think I can’t do this,” Aspen said.

  Raven took a breath. “Asp, you are the most competent forensic technician in the unit, probably the world. You are also one of the most powerful witches I’ve ever heard of, I have no doubt you can handle yourself. But you aren’t a field agent, you have only basic field training and hardly ever even carry a weapon.”

  Aspen turned away. “I don’t need a weapon, Raven. It’s a boat, not a fire-breathing dragon. I’ll be fine.”

  Raven followed her up the stairs. “I’m going with you.”

  Aspen shook her head. “No, you’re not, Ray. You heard Kane, you haven’t passed a psyche or a field exam since Boston. You’re riding a desk until you’re healed.”

  Raven sat on the bed while Aspen dressed in black jeans and an old sweater over an FBI tee shirt. She then pulled her duty bag out from under the bed and added a change of clothes to the pile.

  Raven pulled Aspen’s pistol from its box beneath the bed and put in the bag, “I don’t give a damn what some quack says, I’m fine and I should go with you.”

  Aspen kissed her softly. “Not this time. I’ll be back before you know it, I promise.”

  Raven shook her head. “I don’t like this.”

  “I don’t either, love. But we deal with the job in front of us,” Aspen replied.

  There was a knock at the door and Aspen hefted her bag over her shoulder. “That’s my ride. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  Raven followed her down the stairs to the door, where a black-suited man was waiting with an umbrella. Aspen joined him and the two hurried down the steps to the waiting Dodge sedan. Raven watched until the sedan was out of sight; Aspen never looked back.

  III

  Somewhere Over the North Alantic: Dawn

  Aspen Kincaid looked out the window of the HH-60 Pave Hawk Helicopter and grimaced. She hated heights, especially when they were over water. The ocean below looked like a pool of black ink, shot through with grey that was so dark it was almost invisible. They may as well have been flying over a black
hole.

  “Why am I doing this, again?” she asked.

  “Because Agent King believes we need magikal support,” Agent Brody replied.

  Agent Brody; most women would have called him tall, dark and handsome, with grey eyes and a shock of brown hair that peeked out from beneath his FBI cap. Aspen just thought he was another guy that smelled of ego and aftershave.

  “Agent King believes you need magikal leadership,” Kane said.

  The muscular man with long grey hair and an overcoat that looked two sizes too big for him was sitting across from her, a sword between his knees.

  “Ms. Kincaid is the lead on this mission, Agent Brody, and you will follow her instructions.”

  Brody snorted. “She’s a lab-monkey, what does she know about tactics?”

  “Nothing,” Aspen said.

  She smiled and her magik made her eyes glow blue. “But what I know about magik might save lives, or King wouldn’t have sent me.”

  Brody shook his head and leaned back to look out the window. Aspen continued to let him feel her magik for a moment then turned back to Kane.

  “Kane, huh?”

  He nodded, once.

  “I don’t suppose you know a girl named Jynx, do you?” Aspen asked.

  “She’s my grand-daughter,” Kane replied. “She’s on assignment in New Mexico, I believe.

  “Figures. You share the family resemblance, the sunglasses in your pocket are a dead giveaway.”

  Kane smiled. It was the first time Aspen had seen it since they left Seattle. “Your file says you met her in St. Louis a few years ago. She’s a good kid, her and her sister both.”

  “She’s a pain in the ass,” Weyland Ford said.

  Ford was the team’s computer and logistics specialist, Aspen had met her on the plane from Seattle; she had the personality of an angry shark. She was tall and thin, with blonde hair that trailed to her waist and breasts that threatened to pop through her tactical vest. She looked more like she belonged on the cover of a magazine than in the back of a helicopter.

  “You just don’t like that King pays them more than he pays you,” Brody said.