by Skye Knizley
“Three million dollars? It’s just a shiny lump of wood,” Raven said.
“It isn’t for me to judge, that’s what Pepescu said it was worth,” Briggs said. “We actually have it insured for close to four, just in case. My researcher tells me this thing is made from prehistoric European Yew and was found back in 1947 when they were digging war graves outside Eindhoven. It’s been sitting in a museum ever since. No idea how Pepescu got ahold of the thing.”
Levac whistled through his teeth and pulled out his notepad. Raven looked over his shoulder to see that he’d started making a sketch of some of the stranger symbols.
“Is this all he shipped to the states?” Raven asked.
Briggs spat. “Nope, he also shipped a bunch of wood that he had delivered to a place in Bronzeville. Goes without saying that we shipped it far cheaper and never expected him not to pay up on the box. I don’t suppose you know where some of my boys could find him?”
“Try the morgue,” Raven said. “Drawer seventeen F.”
“Pepescu is dead?” Briggs asked.
“As a doornail.”
“Damn…the only way anyone is getting paid now is the insurance.”
He leaned on the wood as if testing its strength. Raven reached out with one hand and pulled him away.
“Don’t even think about it. Until my investigation is finished this thing is evidence. Don’t breathe on it, don’t even look at it until I say so.”
Briggs caught the look in her eyes and paled. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Detective.”
“Put one of your guards on it, I’m going to ask my lieutenant to send a squad car down, too. If this thing is that valuable, somebody will come for it. I want to be here when they do.”
“You want me to polish it with a diaper, too?” Briggs asked.
Raven clenched her fist until all her knuckles cracked. “I want you to keep an eye on it, Briggs. Whatever that takes. If you have to come down here and sleep with it, consider yourself married to it.”
“It’s just a box, Detective.”
“Oh, I think we can say it is far more than just a box,” Levac said. “I’m not sure what it is yet, but nobody goes to this much trouble to decorate something if what’s inside isn’t far more valuable.”
“Any ideas?” Raven asked.
Levac shook his head. “Not yet. But the symbols are repeated over and over again in a pattern.”
Raven frowned. “A language?”
“A name, I think.”
“Do you think you can figure out what it says?” Raven asked.
Levac smiled. “With a little help from the purple-haired computer genius.”
“Sounds like you have homework, Detective,” Briggs said.
Levac ignored him. “Get me back to the district and I’ll see what we can do.”
Raven turned and looked at the box again. It was too big to be a coffin, but something about it was familiar. Extremely so.
“Let’s go,” she said. “I’ll drop you off. Briggs, remember what I said. If this box moves, you won’t see daylight for a year.”
She was burning hours and only had one card to play. It was time for some of the Storm luck.
NORTH SPRINGFIELD AVENUE, CHICAGO
PRESENT DAY
RAVEN LEFT THE SHELBY DOWN the street from Parchment and Dragon. Snow was piled up outside of the old antiques store, but she could see lights twinkling inside. Someone had made an effort to garnish the two front windows with Christmas decorations and some lights from the 1960s hung inside, flickering on and off. Inside the right display window was a mannequin all dressed up in Victorian finery, posed as if decorating a tree, which looked real. In the left was another tree covered in decorations from the old west. A sign that read “sale” hung askew at the base of the tree.
Raven stepped over the snowbank in front of the entrance and tried the door, only to find it locked and the store closed. She peered through the glass, but could see nothing save for old furniture sitting beneath dim security lights.
She checked both sides of the street and pulled her picks from her jacket pocket. Breaking into the store wasn’t her first choice, any evidence would be tainted by the act, but needs must. The lock gave way under her careful attention and she stepped through into the warm store. Immediately a warning alarm began to sound and she hurried through the store to the alarm panel located in a spacious office at the back of the building. It was a small white panel with backlit green lights. A liquid crystal display was counting backwards and showed forty five seconds.
It was possible she could have picked out the code, she could tell that only four of the numbers were used with any regularity, but that was the hard way to bypass the system. She pulled the front of the panel off and examined the wires within. Time may have gone by since she was in high school, but alarm systems hadn’t changed much. She pulled three wires from the system and twisted two together, bypassing both the system’s ability to call for help and the local alarm. It would be some time before anyone came to check on it and she would worry about that if she found anything particularly useful.
The store was silent and had the feeling of a freshly opened tomb. The furniture, if not actually ancient, was very old and carried the scent of death to her sensitive nose. That combined with dozens of old dolls, toys, hurricane lanterns and silver of every kind and the aroma of age was close to intolerable. She felt as if she was surrounded by death.
Raven ignored the furniture and moved instead through the shelves and cases of personal items. Two items caught her attention in the last case she passed. One was an antique ‘vampire hunting kit’ supposedly once owned by a Victorian monster hunter. The kit contained a mallet, a variety of stakes, a crucifix, a small bible and a collection of jars the contents of which Raven wasn’t willing to speculate on.
Next to the case was a pile of silver coins identical to the one she now carried in her pocket. The small sign said they’d been taken from the empty crypt of Kestrel Kayman, a sixteenth century vampire hunter, and were on sale for one hundred dollars each.
Raven took a photo of the items then moved toward the far wall where a collection of fake weapons hung. Replica spears, swords and axes hung from hooks on the wall, each claiming to be an authentic faux replica of some historic warlord’s weapon. Raven was used to seeing what she called tourist junk. She was therefore surprised to find that a few of the weapons were not only genuine antiques, but contained a significant amount of silver making them effective against both vampires and lycans.
She took photographs of all the weapons and turned toward the back of the store. The office area was as neat as any she had ever seen, with carefully arranged manila folders containing sales orders and shipping receipts, all through Black Mast shipping, a locked antique cash-register and a small refrigerator. It was the refrigerator that caught most of her attention for inside were close to a dozen baby food jars of blood.
Raven donned a pair of gloves from her pocket and opened one of the jars. The scent of vampire blood filled her nostrils and she gagged at the smell. What kind of person kept vampire blood? More importantly, how? Most vamps were reluctant to give up their bodily fluids unless trying to create a familiar or Embraced and here was a man with a dozen jars full with thick, rich claret.
Raven put the jar back in the refrigerator and spun around to examine the rest of the office. The long antique desk was badly scarred and covered in neat stacks of paperwork and a small collection of electronics in a plastic box. Above that was a matching shelf with small cubbyholes containing a variety of watches under repair, each with a neatly lettered label saying who it belonged to, when it was due to be picked up and how much to charge.
Raven searched through them and wasn’t surprised to find one belonging to Tosh Vann. Unlike the others in for repairs, Vann’s was a newer pocket watch with a long chain. It looked to Raven as if someone had smashed it against a wall or table to break the glass face and dislodge the hands. The label noted it was not
a rush job and parts were on order from a watchmaker in Eindhoven.
She took more pictures for Levac, made sure everything was where she had found it and turned to leave. She was almost out of the office when an old pinup calendar by the office exit caught her attention. It was a 1999 calendar, which wasn’t unusual considering the entire wall held calendars from random months and years. But this one was open to October, 1999, just a few months before Raven’s father had been killed. October 29th was highlighted and the words ‘Meet Storm’ was circled, along with something that looked like ‘dark’.
“Dad?” Raven said aloud.
She reached out to take the calendar down and stopped herself at the last second. She wasn’t supposed to be there and this wasn’t evidence. She photographed it and put her phone away. A moment later she stepped into the winter air and took a deep breath to clear her head. She was leaning against the display window when a man stopped in front of her.
“Raven Storm?” he asked. “Detective Sergeant Raven Storm?”
Raven turned and looked at him. He was wearing a hooded coat made of some kind of light brown leather and jeans that had seen better days.
“I’m Detective Storm, do I know you?” Raven asked.
“Yes.”
She must have been distracted, maybe it was the calendar or the blood. But she never saw the pistol in the man’s hand. He shot her point blank in the chest, sending her into the glass window behind her. She could feel her body trying to heal the wound, but she couldn’t move. She looked up to see the man looming over her, the pistol in his hand.
“When you wake up, tell Abraham I send my regards,” he said.
5550 S. DORCHESTER AVENUE
PRESENT DAY
RAVEN WOKE TO THE SOUND of music. At first she thought she was having a nightmare because the song was ‘You Should Be Dancing,’ by the Bee Gees. She couldn’t believe anyone would willingly listen to the Bee Gees.
She opened her eyes and stared at an unfamiliar ceiling. She’d never seen one covered in bamboo or that had paper lanterns. She sat up and immediately wished she hadn’t. It felt as if the top of her head was unscrewing. She tried to hold it on with one hand and focus on her surroundings. She vaguely remembered two faces hovering over her after she’d been shot. One was a man she didn’t recognize, an older gentleman with thinning hair and a goatee. The other was one she saw every day. Her own, which made no sense at all. They’d been talking to her, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. She must’ve blacked out because she didn’t remember anything after that.
She opened her eyes again and focused on the glass and bamboo table in front of her. It was littered with old notepads, cheeseburger wrappers and half-eaten candy.
“Everywhere he goes he leaves wrappers,” she muttered.
“Hey, partner,” Levac said from somewhere behind her.
She turned to see him standing in the doorway. His tie and jacket were gone, but otherwise he looked like he did every day: Stained white dress shirt over an undershirt, black pants and loafers. He still wore his shoulder holster and Sig Sauer, too.
“Where am I?” Raven asked.
“My new apartment,” Levac said. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a bus,” Raven replied. “What happened?”
Levac leaned against the wall. “Someone shot you at close range with a 500 caliber hollow point. If you were anyone else I’d be visiting your grave about now. As it is, we had to feed you six pints of blood.”
Raven probed the still-healing wound in her chest. “How did you know where I was?”
“You called me,” Levac said.
Raven stared at Levac. “I did what now? Like, some familiar thing?”
Levac shook his head and held out his phone. “Nope. You called me. From your Sony. You said, “someone shot me, I’m down, bring blood” and you left the connection open. Aspen traced the call and I picked you up. Just before the local patrol found you, I might add. I brought you back here and we’ve been caring for you all night. It’s about five in the morning.”
“We? Is Aspen here?”
Levac stepped into the room letting Raven see the attractive young woman standing behind him. She was just over five feet tall with milky skin, white hair pulled into a ponytail and golden eyes. She smiled and gave Raven a little wave.
“Greetings, Fürstin Ravenel,” she said. “It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Sloan Patlii.”
Raven blinked and looked at Levac. “Is she—”
“Raven, meet my girlfriend, Sloan,” Levac said. “Sloan, this is my partner and best friend, Raven.”
“I am a physician, Fürstin Ravenel,” Sloan said. “I work at Mercy and am familiar with…your kind. I removed the bullet fragments that were inhibiting your healing factor so you could recover. The largest severed your spine. You are lucky to still be here, Fürstin.”
“Don’t call me Fürstin or Ravenel,” Raven said. “Raven is fine. I’m grateful for your help, thank you. Whoever shot me wanted me to survive. I was helpless.”
She stood on shaky legs and realized she wasn’t wearing her blouse. Instead, a stained Chicago Bears tee hung partway down her bare thighs.
“Where are my clothes?”
Levac blushed, but was saved from answering by Sloan. “You lost a lot of blood and your clothes were beyond help. I removed them and Rupert found you something to wear while you recovered. None of my clothes will fit you.”
“Aspen is going to swing by your apartment and grab something,” Levac added.
“Aspen already did,” Aspen said from the apartment’s small foyer. “I hope a tank and jeans are okay, cause that’s all I could find that didn’t look too clingy for a sucking chest wound.”
Aspen crossed the room and hugged Raven before handing over the shopping bag she carried under her arm. “I also brought you some real food, chicken salad from Cornerstone and black coffee.”
“Thanks, Asp,” Raven said. “I don’t know what else to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Levac said. “You’ve saved both our butts on more than one occasion. We don’t often get to return the favor.”
Raven smiled at Levac then swayed as a wave of dizziness hit her. Aspen caught her and held on until she was steady.
“Come on, love, Rupe has a spare bedroom. Let’s get you dressed and get some solid food in you,” Aspen said. “Chicago’s reigning Princess can’t survive on blood alone.”
Raven let Aspen guide her down the hallway to a small bedroom that contained a bare twin-sized bed and a dresser. On the wall was a mural of Chicago signed by R. Levac. She sat on the bed and ate the sandwich offered by Aspen, her mind racing. Had the people she’d seen over her been real? If so, who were they?
Maybe it was all a dream. After all, one of the people looked like her and she was damn certain she was an only child.
Aspen sat next to her. “You okay, love? You look like you’re on a different planet.”
“I’m fine,” Raven said, finishing the sandwich. “Just recovering. I saw some weird things while I was healing is all.”
“I bet. Sloan said you were close to dead. If they had been any later—”
“I got the message. Does Rupe know his girlfriend is a cuāuhtli?”
Aspen took a sip from her own coffee before answering. “He called her an Eagle Warrior, but yeah. She told him last night. It’s why he’s been a little on edge. It seems he’s come to terms with it and he is happy, though.”
“I was trying to keep him out of the preternatural dark side,” Raven said.
“I think it’s great, Ray,” Aspen said. “They met the same way everyone else does and made a connection. It just so happens they are both from the preternatural side of the fence and are both just living normal lives. You should try it sometime.”
“I was trying to live a normal life,” Raven said. “Every time I do the weird shit drags me back in kicking and screaming. I haven’t had a date in almost
two years because everyone I get close to ends up evil, dead or both.”
“What about finding someone like Sloan? Someone who already has their toes in the supernatural pool?” Aspen asked.
Raven ran a hand through her tangled mass of hair. “I don’t even know where to start, Asp.”
Aspen set her coffee down and turned so she was facing Raven. “You could start with what is right in front of you.”
Raven opened her mouth, but only got as far as “W—”
Aspen leaned into her and kissed her, softly at first, just a brush of lips then with more passion. The kiss was just ending when Levac opened the door. Aspen pulled away as if she’d been set on fire, leaving Raven puckered up and somewhat cross-eyed.
“Did I come at a bad time?” Levac asked. “You look busy.”
Raven blinked at Levac and realized she must look ridiculous. “What? No, fine, what’s up?”
Levac looked back and forth between the two women. “We just got a call from Frost. Another victim turned up during the night just a few blocks from where I found you.”
“Shit.”
Raven stood and pulled out the clothes Aspen had brought. A white tank top and jeans wasn’t her usual work apparel, but it would do. She turned around and started to pull her borrowed tee shirt over her head. It was halfway off when a memory hit her.
“The sonofabitch who shot me!” she yelled.
She pulled the shirt the rest of the way off and turned around. “Rupe, the bastard that shot me. I remember his face. It was Lupeski, that albino sonofabitch from Titan.”
She could see Levac wasn’t listening. His eyes were focused somewhat below hers.
“Ray, I don’t think Rupert was expecting a peep show,” Aspen giggled.
Raven threw the shirt at Levac’s head, covering his face.
“Go, make some calls, find Lupeski,” she yelled. “I’ll take the crime scene.”
Levac didn’t answer. He just turned around and closed the door.