by Skye Knizley
She turned her attention to the door. It consisted of a heavy metal frame that had once been padded on the inside and a dozen thick iron bars in the middle that allowed whatever passed for medicine and food to be passed back and forth to the “patients.”
She drew one of the blades from her boot and wedged it into the gap between the door and the wall.
Sorry, Thad.
She pushed on the pommel with all her strength. The metal shrieked and she felt the knife bend under her hands, but the door popped open with a screech of metal on metal and a shower of rust.
The corridor outside was very wide, with a cracked porcelain tile floor that had once been beige and red, white plaster walls that were flaking away into nothing and row after row of doors that looked like they belonged in an old prison rather than a mental ward. No wonder they’d closed this wing off.
She tossed her twisted knife aside and drew the other, then walked down the corridor to a barred staircase. Remnants of old padding hung from the bars like tattered cobwebs and rust traced patterns in the metal only Salvador Dali could enjoy.
Raven examined the old lock and made a face; it was as sturdy as the other one had been. Whoever had designed the doors must have also designed training harnesses for elephants. There was no way to get through without making some noise.
She took a breath, leaned back and kicked the metal where the lock went into the steel frame. It took five tries before the steel gave way beneath her boot and the gate opened with a squeal that could wake the dead.
Raven stepped through and took the steps two at a time, her senses on overdrive. When she reached the bottom she pressed herself against the wall and leaned sideways to peer into the corridor beyond. It was virtually identical to the one above, save that the steel gate had been removed and now lay against the wall, a rusting relic to an era that thought mental illness was the work of the devil.
The sun was going down, making the corridor darker, but Raven could see light filtering through a grime encrusted window to her right, light that shed no heat. She walked on cat feet to the door nearest the window and wiped grime away with her hand. Beyond was another reception area similar to the one in the administration wing save this one hadn’t been kept up. It was as dirty and falling down as the rest of the wing. Raven couldn’t believe they would keep this sort of filth so close to actual patients. All that was protecting them from the decay was a few doors. When she got out of here someone was getting a nasty letter with an FBI seal.
Two people were standing near the door beyond, while the orderly was sitting in the room’s only chair, a cigarette clamped between her wormlike lips and a Bridal magazine in her hands.
Huh. Love really is blind if some idiot is marrying her, Raven thought.
She turned so she could see the other way and caught sight of her holster and other belongings lying on the old reception desk, folded like they were just waiting for her to pick them up. Which is just what she intended to do.
She waited until the two near the door were facing out then clamped her hand around the doorknob and pulled. She was through and moving before the orderly had even dropped her magazine.
Raven grabbed an empty plant pot and threw it at the orderly with all her might while she grabbed up her Automag with the other hand. The heavy copper urn hit the orderly in the head and she slumped to the floor with blood pouring from her mouth and nose.
The two guards in the door turned to find Raven pointing her pistol at them with murder in her eyes.
“Lie down on the floor with your hands over your head,” Raven growled.
“Or what?” the tall one asked, one hand on the pistol in his waistband.
Raven shrugged. “You can try breathing through your forehead. I don’t care which.”
The men looked at each other than did as she asked. Raven jerked the pistols from their belts and set them aside, then put a magazine into her empty pistol.
“It was empty?” the short one asked.
“As your brainpan, bub,” Raven said.
“You bitch!”
“That’s Agent Bitch to you. Put your hands behind your backs. You have the right to remain silent, if you chose not to remain silent, anything you say will be used against you in a court of law—”
“You’re arresting us?” the taller one asked.
“You are complicit in the assault and unlawful detention of a Federal officer, what part of this don’t you understand?” Raven asked.
“But we’re familiars to the Master!” the other howled.
“I don’t care if you’re backup singers for Lady Gaga, you’re still going to jail. For a very long time.”
She finished mirandizing the two men, cuffed their hands together with zip-cuffs and hauled them outside.
The night was clear and cold with just a hint of fading sunlight beyond the horizon. A black Ford Crown Victoria was parked in the circular drive outside the hospital, with Aspen and Kole sitting on the hood. To either side of them was a black Suburban surrounded by a dozen men, a mixture of lycans and vampiric familiars. Half had their weapons aimed at Raven while the others were covering the women seated on the car.
Aspen looked up from the fast food bag she was pulling fries out of and waved. “Hi, Ray. Want a French fry?”
“Hey, Aspen,” Raven replied. “How was your flight?”
“It was good, thank you for the first class ticket,” Aspen said. “Food still sucked, though. I’m not a fan of Styrofoam chicken.”
Raven smiled. “Sorry, they don’t serve burgers on Virgin. Who are your friends?”
“You two do realize we’re surrounded by armed men, right?” Kole asked.
“These guys? They’re some of the local Master’s thugs sent to collect us,” Aspen said. “Something about you not paying homage to him. You know, vampire crap.”
Raven sighed. “I figured as much. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.”
“Are we going with them?” Aspen asked.
Raven shook her head. “They put a bounty on my head. I’d like a word with Cade about that, but not on his terms.”
Kole piped up, “Do I get a say in this?”
“No,” Aspen and Raven said together.
To Raven, Aspen said, “It will be tough to explain this many human-looking bodies to the locals.”
Raven pursed her lips. “True. Thad might have a team around, but it will take time and these idiots have taken things public. I’m sure the Section has a team, but this is personal.”
She pushed the two men she was escorting ahead of her down the stairs, her eyes never leaving the group of lycans milling around Aspen.
“Which one of you is in charge?” she asked.
The rear door of the nearest Suburban opened and Baldy stepped out with a Heckler and Koch submachine gun in his hands.
“I am,” he said. “I told you it wasn’t over, Red.”
Raven rolled her eyes. “You’re like a bad penny, I can’t seem to get rid of you. Call off your lycans, let Kole go and my familiar and I will go with you.”
“No deal. Your lycan might track us.”
“Are you kidding? She couldn’t track a subway train,” Raven said.
“Hey!” Kole yelled.
Raven shrugged. “No offense, kid.”
She cocked the hammer back on her pistol and aimed it at Baldy. “Last chance. I’m willing to bet we can take all of you right here without breaking a sweat. Do you want to risk it?”
Baldy lowered his sunglasses. If he hadn’t been so ugly, his eyes would have been beautiful; they were as blue as glaciers. “Fine. Your pet can go, but you and the witch come quietly.”
“Kole, get the hell out of here,” Raven said.
“What? These men are holding Federal officers hostage, we can’t just let them leave!”
“They aren’t men and this isn’t a Federal matter,” Raven replied. “This is a vampire thing. Go before Baldy changes his mind.”
Kole stood but looked uncer
tain. Before she could move, a nearby lycan grabbed her and licked her neck.
“This little one tastes fresh. I don’t think she’s been properly broken,” he said. “Don’t send her away, I want her for my Omega.”
“Let go of me!” Kole yelled.
Raven turned her aim on the lycan. “Baldy, call off your dog before I put him down!”
“Maul, I just said the lycan could go,” Baldy said.
“I want her,” Maul growled. “I need a new Omega.”
“Another time, old friend. Let her go, for now,” Baldy insisted.
Maul let Kole go and she backed away toward the Ford’s door.
“Come near me again and I will kill you,” Kole snapped.
“Shut up and run!” Raven yelled.
Kole blinked at her then climbed inside the Ford. Aspen slid off the hood with her fries and the car backed away with what could only be called recklessness, spinning around almost out of control and careening down the driveway to civilization and safety.
“She’s gone,” Baldy said. “Now you hold up your end.”
Raven counted the men around her and Aspen. She knew they could probably take them, but not without attracting far more attention than she wanted. For now, she had to play Caderyn’s game.
She holstered her Automag and raised her hands.
“Fine. Take me to your leader.”
Aspen snorted and chewed the end of another French fry.
“Get over there with your familiar,” Baldy said.
Raven did as Baldy instructed and moved to stand with Aspen. Aspen hugged her and kissed her cheek.
“Missed you,” she said.
“I missed you too,” Raven replied. “Sorry about this.”
Aspen smiled. “I’m used to vampire crap. I just hope it doesn’t take too long, I’m still hungry.”
“Are you channeling Rupert, now?” Raven asked.
“He’s the soundest man I know,” Aspen said. “He’s got a great stomach on his shoulders.”
“I’ll make sure we don’t waste much time, I could use some food myself.”
“Shut up, both of you,” Baldy said. “The Master wants us to bring you downtown. You’ll ride with me.”
“Fine, let’s get this over with,” Raven said.
They entered the Suburban and held hands while the vehicle turned and headed back toward Boston. Raven divided the time between soft conversation with Aspen, and watching the storm gathering above the not too distant city.
OLD TOWN
CHICAGO, IL. 5:30 P.M.
IT HAD TAKEN LEVAC ALL afternoon to track down the Begging Stone. While Thad’s instructions had been correct, from a certain point of view, he hadn’t indicated how well hidden the place was. Levac had eventually found it at the end of a dark alley at the very edge of Old Town, between an abandoned hotel and an old hardware store.
The door to the shop was a simple wooden affair with a barred window in the center. Next to the door was another barred window through which light filtered into the early evening gloom; the name Begging Stone was picked out on the window in red and gold letters that were as faded as the brickwork around the glass. Firearms, most that looked in such poor condition no one would think of using them for fear of hurting themselves, lined the ragged shelf inside.
Levac rang the bell over the door and waited for several long minutes. He was reaching for the bell again when a voice said, “Detective Levac.”
He turned to find Abraham King standing a few yards away, leaning heavily on his cane.
“Agent King,” Levac said. “I’m surprised to find you here. Looking for ammo?”
“I’m not here to see August,” King said. “I’m here to see you.”
“Me? Is Raven in trouble?” Levac asked.
King shook his head. “When is Ravenel not in trouble? But that is also not why I am here.”
Levac frowned. “Then why?”
“I understand you are working on a case involving a murdered priest. You found they were mutilated after the fact, skin taken?”
“Agent King, this is hardly the place to be—”
King rapped his cane on the paving stones. “Yes or no, Levac.”
“Look, Agent King, I don’t care who you are, I’m not discussing this case with you standing here on the street,” Levac said.
“Then I will discuss it with you. You found that both the Russian thugs and this priest were missing a flap of skin from their backs, and you have few leads,” King said.
Levac pulled out his notepad. “More or less. Now I’m here following up—”
“You are here because of something you saw or think you saw,” King interrupted again. “August and his cold iron bullets are not your concern, this case is. Your partner, Raven Storm, is working the same case in Boston. I already spoke to your Lieutenant Mauser, I want you to join her.”
King pulled an airline ticket and a slim black wallet from his pocket. “First class, Probationary Agent Levac.”
Levac took the wallet and opened it. Inside was an FBI badge and identification with his name and specifics.
“Why?” he asked. “I thought you gave her a new partner.”
King turned away. “Kole was never Raven’s partner, Agent Levac. She was a test. The flight leaves first thing in the morning. Be on it.”
Levac watched King leave, then turned back to the door to the Begging Stone. Part of him wanted to let it go. To just go home, spend the evening with Sloan and pack his things.
The rest of him would be damned if he’d drop this so easily. Someone with Raven’s face was out there, and he wanted to know why.
He put the FBI packet inside his coat and tried the knob. The door opened beneath his fingers and he stepped through into the too-warm interior.
The front room of the store contained only the old weapons in the window and an antique bench that looked like it was about as comfortable as the pavement outside. At the end of the room was a caged in area behind which Levac could see more firepower than he’d seen outside a bad action movie. A thin man, with a fringe of white hair that made him look like his skull was rising through a hedge, appeared and waved to Levac.
“Welcome, lad, welcome,” he said. “What can I do ya fer?”
Levac flipped open his identification. “Detective Levac, homicide. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about the special ammunition you make?”
“Don’t know what yer talking about, offser,” August replied.
“Cold iron in thirty carbine bullets I dug out of a wall this morning,” Levac said. “What can you tell me about them?”
“Do you have a warrant, detective?” August asked.
Levac sighed. “Do I really have to say I can get one? Come on, help me out.”
August rubbed his bald pate and turned away. “Okay, alright, let me see what I can find. Thirty carbine, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Mm, not a common round there, not common at all.”
August opened a drawer and pulled out a handful of cartridges in thirty carbine. He dropped them on the counter in front of Levac along with a scrap of receipt.
“Is this what yer looking for?”
Levac picked up the scrap of paper. The name on the paper was Rachel Sturm.
“Can you describe Ms. Sturm?” Levac asked.
August shook his head. “Got a terrible head for faces. She ordered a couple hundred rounds, picked’em up a few days later. Never seen her before or since.”
“What are these then?” Levac asked.
August picked the cartridges up and put them back in the drawer. “I never makes just what someone orders, detective. I always makes a little extra.”
“Right. May I have one for later comparison?” Levac asked.
August shrugged and dropped one of the cartridges back on the counter. “Sure, sir. No charge.”
Levac picked up the cartridge. It was cold, colder than it should be. He rubbed it between his fingers and watched mist appear o
n the brass.
“What’s this made out of?” he asked.
“What you asked for,” August replied. “Cold iron. The coldest there comes.”
Levac dropped the cartridge into his pocket. “Thank you, sir. You’ve been most helpful.”
A few seconds later he was back on the street. He could see the lights of Club Purgatory a few blocks away. Steam was rising from the vents, as it did every fall, making it look as if a cloud of smoke hung over the building. No doubt a long line was standing outside in Chicago fall waiting to get inside.
He turned away and headed for the Nash. He’d be an idiot to turn down the opportunity to work with the FBI and no doubt Sloan would be thrilled for him. He could figure out who was impersonating Raven when the case was over. Maybe this time they would actually arrest someone.
ISLINGTON ROAD
NEWTON, MA. 0:00 P.M.
CADERYN’S MANSION IN NEWTON, MASSACHUSETTS wasn’t as ornate as Tempeste manor, but what it lacked in decoration it made up with sheer Gothic intimidation, with sweeping tin roofs, multi-tiered towers and a black iron fence that would be more appropriate in front of 1313 Mockingbird Lane.
The Suburbans pulled through the electric gate and stopped in the semi-circle driveway in front of the house. Half a dozen vampires were standing in front of the house, weapons at the ready.
“That’s a lot of security for one scumbag,” Raven said.
“He isn’t taking chances with you, Lady Tempeste,” Baldy said. “Your reputation and bloodline precede you.”
“I can’t say the same. All I know about your boss is he’s a jackass with lousy taste in lackeys.”
Raven opened the door and waited for Aspen to follow, her eyes on the vampires who had leveled weapons at them.
“Chinese QCW submachine guns,” Aspen said. “Chinese broadswords and SOG boot-knives. All that violent goodness, just for us.”
“Yeah. I’m quaking in my Choo’s. Come on, Baldy, let’s get this over with.”
Baldy walked around the Suburban and held out his hand. “I’ll take that cannon of yours.”
Raven looked at him. “We’re not in public anymore, bub. Do you want to try taking it from me?”