by Skye Knizley
“Evening, Detective Storm,” one of them said, holding the tape out of the way.
Raven ducked under his arm and turned. “Hey, Jimmy. What do we have?”
“White female, dead as a doornail, Detective,” Jimmy replied. “Kincaid is already working the scene.”
“Have you found any witnesses?” Raven asked.
Jimmy shook his head. “Mustaine and Agli did a canvas and so far we have zip. Everything on this street is closed and if anyone saw what happened, they didn’t stick around to talk about it.”
“Here? In the middle of the street under these lights in front of the only ATM for sixteen blocks no one saw anything?”
Jimmy shrugged. “Not a damn thing and the ATM camera is busted.”
“Thanks, Jimmy,” Raven said.
She turned and walked to where Aspen was kneeling next to the body. The short woman’s purple hair was pulled back from her face in a black bandana that held all but a single braid out of her face. She was wearing rolled up jeans and a rock concert tee shirt under a white smock. She looked up at Raven and smiled.
“Hi, Ray. Meet Ms. Iliana Romiji, twenty-three years old, Romanian immigrant and she lives on the other side of town. What she is doing alone on the outskirts of Old Town is beyond me. Her stomping grounds should be blocks from here. ”
Raven looked down at the woman. She was tall, with long dark hair that was now matted to her head and mingled with the sticky blood in the gutter. She was nude and had a variety of tattoos on her stomach with a matching full sleeve on her right arm. All of her art was oriented on monsters: Vampires, werewolves and for some reason evil unicorns. By the looks of things she had been shot from behind at close range with the bullet passing through her heart and out, taking her ribs with it. The girl had never even seen it coming.
A series of symbols Raven didn’t recognize had been written on the pavement beside her in blood and the body was sprinkled with black roses. By scent, Raven was certain the blood belonged to the victim. It was unmistakable even when mingled with the sweet smell of roses.
“At least she isn’t another Mary Doe. Have you found anything?” she asked Aspen.
“Not much, love,” Aspen replied. “I know who she is and where she lives. She was killed a couple hours ago with something even larger than your Automag and the bullet was bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. The killer had plenty of time afterwards to strip her, pose her and leave his doodle, but we can’t have missed him by much. I have a dozen bags full of trace items, but I doubt any of them are from the killer, mostly just cigarette butts and junk from the street.”
Raven squatted next to her friend and picked through the clothing which included a black spandex dress and fishnet stockings, all from French boutiques. The stiletto heels, bagged separately, cost three grand on a good day.
“What about a bullet casing? Or the slug?”
Aspen shook her head. “No casing. Either he picked it up or he’s using a revolver. She was moved after the shot so finding the slug based on trajectory will be almost impossible, but I’m going to get the team on it as soon as they get here.”
“Swell,” Raven muttered. “Let’s see what I can find.”
Raven closed her eyes. When she opened them again they were the feral green slits of a Master vampire on the hunt. She could smell blood. Lots of it. The scent was strongest over the body, which was to be expected, but she could smell the victim’s blood elsewhere, too. Somewhere close by. She followed the scent across the street, moving at a slow walk. After a moment she found the source, a few drops of blood and a gobbet of flesh on the sidewalk. Raven could see what looked like fingerprints in the blood.
“Can you do anything with this?” she asked.
Aspen crossed the street and squatted next to the puddle. “I’ll collect the flesh and try to get a set of prints from the blood. Maybe our suspect is in the system, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
Raven nodded. “Do what you can. Any idea where Levac is?”
Just then Rupert Levac’s battered old Nash Metropolitan turned the corner and rattled to a stop. Raven walked toward it as Levac climbed out, his trademark overcoat in place along with its collection of condiment stains. She could smell fresh mustard on his lapel.
“Rupe, did you stop for a hotdog?” Raven asked.
Levac shrugged. “I was hungry. Is this—”
“—another weird one?” Raven finished. “I’m not sure. It’s definitely weird, but it doesn’t look like there is anything up our alley going on. No monsters, vamps or anything else as far as I can tell, just a nut with a big gun. I could be wrong though. It’s a little too perfect for your average crime of passion.”
Levac frowned and turned to survey the crime scene. “It looks like the vic was killed by some kind of alien, should we be looking for a white skittery thing?”
Aspen giggled. “You’ve seen too many late-night movies, Rupe. I think it was a high-caliber round, something bigger than a Smith and Wesson fifty caliber judging by the exit wound. I’m going to have a crew search for the bullet, it has to be around here somewhere. Once we find it I can run the ballistics and figure out what weapon was used.”
Levac whistled through his teeth. “Any witnesses? Somebody must have heard a gun that big, even in this neighborhood.”
“Nothing,” Raven replied. “Which is why I’m interested.”
She crossed the street and again squatted next to the victim. She could smell the woman’s perfume, a mix of pepper and vanilla, the cold scent of blood and something else. Something she couldn’t quite place that vanished as soon as it hit her nose.
She pulled a pair of gloves from the pouch on her belt and slipped them on. She then dipped a finger into the heart’s blood still trickling from the woman’s chest and raised it to her lips. She spat a moment later and frowned.
“Ketamine,” she said. “Or something similar.”
“What, the date rape drug? How would she get that into her system?” Levac asked.
“Good question,” Raven replied. “Asp, see what Ming can dig up on a tox screen and run a kit on her.”
“A kit?” Aspen asked. “There’s no evidence of sexual assault, Ray.”
“Just humor me, Asp,” Raven said. “Anything might help.”
Aspen shrugged and made a note on her report. “Okies. I’ll let the boss know. Anything else?”
Raven shook her head. “Not yet. Just let me know if you find anything useful, huh?”
Aspen nodded and Raven turned to Levac. “Come on, Rupe, let’s see if we can find out where our lady friend here came from.”
The woman’s perfume was distinctive and though the night wind carried with it thousands of scents, Raven’s hyperactive senses guided her down the street and a few blocks west, into the heart of Old Town. As usual a crowd was waiting in line outside Club Purgatory, bathed in the garish light of the bright red neon sign. Raven could smell the mix of excitement and hormones coming off the crowd, but not the delicate odor of Romiji’s perfume. She looked across the courtyard toward Isle of Night and The Night Shift. Both were still busy, with partiers hanging around outside the doors enjoying cigarettes and sharing stories.
“Rupe, check out Isle of Night, see if anyone saw a woman fitting the vic’s description,” Raven said. “I’ll take The Night Shift.”
Levac frowned. “Are you sure you want to talk to Du Guerre? I can do it this time.”
Raven nodded. “No, thanks. Du Guerre is my problem, not yours. Meet you outside.”
She could feel Levac’s eyes on her as she crossed the grassy area in the heart of the district, but she ignored him. She didn’t like going into Du Guerre’s lair any more than he did.
The Night Shift had once been a sleazy massage parlor catering to vampire and lycan clients. Du Guerre had quietly acquired the property, removed the tenants and converted the entire block into a 1940’s style swing club. The outside was a mixture of stone and antique wood framing with half a dozen ar
t-deco windows and stone sculptures she knew had been imported from England facing the street.
Raven pushed through the doors and stepped into the marble foyer, her breath forming ice crystals in the too-cold air. To her right was a wrought-iron staircase that led upstairs to the jazz club while to her left was a single antique elevator attended by a young vampire in a red uniform. In the center of the room was a reception desk where a dark skinned woman sat wearing a post-war dress, navy with a white collar and red buttons.
No. Not a woman. A vampire. An Embraced, to be exact.
Raven smiled at her. “Good evening, I’m Detective Raven Storm of Chicago police. Have you been on duty all evening?”
“Hello, Detective Storm,” the female vampire said. “Yes, I came on just after sunset, is there something I can do for you?”
“A woman, a shade over five feet tall, short black dress, fishnets and heels,” Raven said. “She had enough hair to sweep the floor, you couldn’t miss her. Have you seen her tonight?”
The vampire paused and ran her tongue over her fangs. “Yes, Detective, she was here. She spent some time in the club and then left a few hours ago.”
“Was she with anyone?” Raven asked.
The vampire shook her head. “She left alone.”
Raven frowned. “What about while she was here, was she here on a date? Did you see her with anyone?”
“What is this about?” the vampire asked.
“It’s about a police investigation,” Raven replied. “You’re helping me with my inquiries and I appreciate your help. Who did she meet?”
“She had drinks with Lord Du Guerre earlier this evening,” the vampire replied.
Raven rolled her eyes. “You’re calling him Lord now? When was this, he was at my place just a few hours ago.”
The vampire’s eyes turned ice blue. “I would assume sometime before he left to see you. I trust you had a good visit?”
Raven felt her own eyes darken. “Don’t get yourself in a twist. I have no interest in tall, pale and dead, believe me. Where is he, now?”
“In the bar or his office, Detective,” the vampire replied. “But he has given the staff orders you are only allowed into the club at his direct invitation.”
Raven turned toward the elevator. “Yeah, I know. Unless you intend to stop me…”
The vampire moved in front of her. “In fact, I do. I have my instructions, Detective.”
“I’m really not in the mood for this shit,” Raven growled.
The vampire smiled and extended her claws, letting them slide out with a sound like paper crackling. No doubt she thought she was terrifying.
“You look like a child trying to impress daddy,” Raven said. “It won’t work, he’s a selfish little prick who cares only about his own petty schemes. He won’t even pat you on the head for your trouble.”
The vampire responded by taking a swing at Raven. The attack was slow and clumsy, but would have disemboweled a normal person. Raven caught the vampire’s arm and twisted it up behind her in a joint lock.
“I’m going to take a guess that you are young and new to the city,” Raven said in a conversational tone. “So let me explain. I’m Fürstin Ravenel Tempeste of the House Tempeste. My mother is the Mistress of the City and I can snap your arm like a toothpick if I want to. When I let go, I suggest you bugger off behind your desk and stay there.”
Raven let go of the vampire’s arm and stepped back, her eyes glowing. The vampire rubbed her arm and glared at Raven before moving back behind her desk and sitting primly in the overstuffed chair. Raven nodded at her and continued toward the elevator where the operator opened the gate and conveyed her to the second floor without a word.
Raven stepped out into a spacious lobby decorated in marble, with a large chandelier that did more to cast shadows in the corners of the room than to illuminate. A handful of plush red chairs and mahogany tables were placed around the room, most now occupied by partiers. The left-hand doors were open showing a dance floor full of swing dancers enjoying an excellent ten-piece band that had just launched into ‘In the Mood’ while ahead were the glass doors leading to the bar. Raven could see Du Guerre standing behind the polished wood, a glass of claret in his hand.
Raven moved like a ghost through the crowd and was soon on a stool across the bar from Du Guerre. He looked up in surprise and smiled.
“My dear Ravenel, I didn’t expect to see you. I shall have to have a discussion with my staff. Did you decide to speak to me, after all?” he asked.
“Only because I have no choice. I don’t enjoy being this close to you,” Raven replied. “I’m told you spent some time with a young woman tonight, Iliana Romiji. She’s not a local girl. Do you remember her?”
Du Guerre nodded. “I do indeed. Why?”
“She’s dead,” Raven replied. “Someone put a bullet in her chest just a few blocks from here. I don’t suppose you know anything about that?”
Du Guerre glanced at the customers who were now staring at him. “Ravenel, this is hardly the place to discuss one of your cases. Let us adjourn to my office.”
“Lead the way.”
Raven followed Du Guerre through the foyer and to a set of curtains that looked like all the others. Du Guerre cast them aside and stepped through.
The room beyond was spacious and decorated in the same 1940’s style as the rest of the building, complete with an antique desk and chair that would have looked at home in Sam Spade’s office. Du Guerre sat in the plush green chair behind the desk and Raven leaned against the wall near the door.
“Tell me about Romiji.”
“She is— was, one of my sheep,” Du Guerre replied.
Raven frowned. “Sheep? You mean you were feeding off her, she was a donor?”
Du Guerre nodded. “I spent an hour or so with her tonight, feeding. When I was finished she went home and I left to see you.”
Raven rubbed her eyes. “You know mother has set up clinics all over the city where you can get fresh claret, right?”
“I do, Ravenel. I prefer my sustenance to be ‘on the hoof,’ so to speak.”
“One more reason I wish I’d never met you,” Raven said. “If I’d known then you could do the Jedi mind whammy I’d have staked you at dinner that night.”
Du Guerre looked affronted. “Ravenel, I only did what I had to—”
“Shut up. Did you notice anyone watching you or Romiji? Know of anyone who would want to hurt her?” Raven asked.
“I noticed nothing of the sort,” Du Guerre said. “If I had, I would have handled the matter myself. Iliana was a sweet woman and a friend.”
“Yeah, you couldn’t possibly have sent someone to kill a friend,” Raven snorted. “What about your other donors? Was there any jealousy amongst them? Competition for your affection?”
Du Guerre leaned back in his chair. “Every now and then. The ‘mind whammy,’ as you call it, sometimes effects sheep more strongly than others. They are dismissed before they can harm anyone. I will not tolerate competition within my herd.”
“How long does it take for the effect to wear off?” Raven asked.
“Perhaps a day or so,” Du Guerre replied. “I have never had cause to time the effect before.”
“Long enough for a jealous nutjob to pull someone’s spine out of their chest,” Raven said. “Are you sure there hasn’t been any trouble in the family recently?”
“I am certain, Ravenel. All has been quiet. I assure you, whatever happened to Miss Romiji it had nothing to do with me or my coven.”
Raven sighed. “I believe you. I would like nothing more than to cover that desk in your ash, but I believe you.”
She turned and stopped in the doorway. “Cut out the mind tricks, Francois. If people don’t come to you of their own free will, don’t make them. Prove you’re more than just another soulless Dracula wannabe.”
“I’m sorry about Iliana,” Du Guerre said. “If I hear anything I will let you know.”
“You
do that.”
Raven stepped into the foyer and hurried down the nearby steps to the lobby. She needed to get away from Du Guerre before she blew his head all over the wall. Controlling people was evil.
Outside she saw Levac standing on the street corner, a meat pie in his hand and mustard on his tie. He smiled when he saw Raven and he waved the pie at her.
“MacKenna was giving two for one before closing. Want a snack?” he asked.
Raven covered her nose with her hand. “Rupe, do you have any idea what’s in those?”
Levac shrugged. “Same thing that’s in my hotdogs. Meat leftovers are still meat and I’m hungry.”
“If you say so, just don’t get any on me,” she said. “Did you learn anything besides what was tonight’s special?”
“Romiji stopped in at about nine for a glass of Scotch,” Levac said. “MacKenna said he thought she looked pale, but didn’t notice anything or anyone suspicious. The vic had her drink, paid in cash and left. MacKenna already washed her glass. If anyone slipped her anything, the evidence is gone.”
“Marvelous,” Raven said. “Du Guerre wasn’t any more helpful. All we know for sure is she was alive when she left the area.”
“Weird one?” Levac asked.
“Seems like it,” Raven replied. “We’ll know more in the morning. It’s too late to go knocking on doors and I’m in no frame of mind to tell any kin that she’s dead. Frost can handle that, it’s his job. Call a black and white to secure her residence, I’m going home.”
“Not yet,” Levac said, his eyes on something down the sidewalk.
Raven followed his gaze and saw her sister Pandora in the shadows. The older vampire was using the wall as a crutch and blood trickled from dozens of white-lipped wounds all over her torso.
“Dora, what happened?” Raven asked, helping her sister up. “Are you okay?”
“An elder vampire arrived, challenged Mother,” Pandora gasped. “I wasn’t strong enough—”
Pandora lapsed into a fit of coughing that left her breathless and her lips flecked with blood.
“Take it easy, Dora,” Raven said. “You need blood, you should have fed tonight.”