by Skye Knizley
“I have a thought about that,” Levac said. “The thing I struggled with, well, I know Father Casside pretty well and I can tell you, that wasn’t him. It had his face and his memories, but whatever made him who he was, was gone. Could they be something else?”
“Sounds like an Embraced gone wrong, to me,” Raven said. “When one is created by an inexperienced Master they sometimes come back missing something, like a hole where their soul should be. They are little more than brutes and get put down within a day or so of rising.”
“What if someone was letting them rise instead of putting them down?” Levac asked.
“They would kill without thought or remorse,” Aspen said. “They’d be monsters.”
“Like Casside was,” Levac said.
Raven turned away and looked out the window at the glistening city. It was storming again and the city was covered in a thin layer of ice from the cold rain. Something was nagging at her, something Levac had said.
“Rupe? What bank did Klien make his deposit at, again?” she asked.
“Salem, why?” Levac asked.
“I heard that name recently, in Walker’s journal. It was written on the page where the key was.”
“Salem Bank. You think that’s where the deposit box might be?” Aspen asked.
Raven shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. He went to a lot of effort to keep it hidden, there must have been a reason.”
“No one will be there this late at night,” Levac said.
“Maybe not, but I’m willing to bet someone will open the doors for the FBI.”
She pulled her phone out and dialed a number from memory.
BEACON STREET
BOSTON, MA. 9:40 P.M.
SALEM BANK SAT ON THE corner in a large seven story brick building that dated back to the 1800s. It had once had windows, but they had been either bricked over or covered with bars so thick no one would even think of trying to cut through them if they had half a brain. The bank manager, a portly woman in her mid-fifties, was waiting for them when they arrived. She held an umbrella in one hand, a steaming cup in the other.
Raven had changed into something more appropriate for dealing with the city’s nighttime denizens and was now clad in her trademark leather pants, red blouse and black coat that was cut to conceal her pistol and the new blades Thad’s friend Gareth had sent over. She had two brand new knives with silver-etched blades. They were more like daggers than what she usually used, but they would work until Thad could make her a new set. She also had a sword that was older than she was. The blade had been engraved with sigils even Aspen couldn’t identify and it appeared to have been made from some kind of silver alloy with a grip wrapped in skin that Raven didn’t want to speculate about.
She stepped onto the sidewalk and caught up to Levac who was huddling in his coat to avoid the rain. Aspen had stayed at the hotel to try and dig up more information on Klien’s shipment from Mexico.
“Special Agent Storm?” the woman asked.
“And my partner Agent Levac,” Raven said. “Thank you for meeting us here on such short notice.”
“My pleasure,” she said. “I’ve already unlocked the door and the night guard is expecting us.”
“Thank you,” Levac said.
The inside of the bank was more impressive than the outside, with a large lobby, antique wooden counters and rows of teller stations that looked like they belonged more in the 1800s than the present. A slightly built guard with a Glock 20 strapped to his thigh stood behind the counter and he buzzed them through into the back where the vault waited. Before they were allowed entry, the manager scrutinized and copied their credentials and made both of them sign in. She then used her keys to unlock the outer gate and addressed the time-lock, which was a modern key code versus an old-style tumbler. The door unlocked with a noise like an iron gate creaking in the wind and opened on automated hydraulics.
Raven stepped into the vault and scanned the boxes until she found number seventy nine. It slid out easily on oiled rails and she placed it on the table while Levac and the manager looked on. The brass key fit with only a small amount of persuasion and the box popped open. Inside was another of the golden disks wrapped in old silk, a pocket knife and a list of names with Cleary, Quinn, Casside, Butler and Grimes all scratched out with a red pen. The knife was covered in blood.
“All the victims,” Raven said. “He did know what was coming. He was tracking them somehow.”
“I’ll take the gold,” a voice said.
Raven looked up to see the guard standing in the doorway with his Glock leveled at the back of Levac’s head.
“What are you doing?” the bank manager screeched.
“Taking that gold,” the guard replied. “Now!”
His eyes flashed and Raven could see they had become snakelike and dead. She thought about drawing one of her weapons and making a move, but even with her vampire speed she doubted she would be fast enough to keep Levac from losing his head. She picked up the disk and held it out.
“Fine, just don’t hurt anyone. Take it and go,” she said.
“Take it,” the guard said to Levac.
Levac took the disk and Raven could see he was thinking about what to do. She shook her head, but he was already moving. He turned sideways and threw the disk at the guard’s head. The gold landed in the guard’s free hand with a warm slap and he smiled, his gun still aimed at Levac.
“Thank you. Cimil will be pleased,” he said.
“Who is Cimil?” Raven asked. “Is that who’s yanking your chain?”
“I do not have a chain,” the guard replied. “I have my duty.”
He backed away through the door. Raven watched him, hoping for a break in his concentration. Levac, she knew, was waiting for the same thing, but the guard’s eyes never left them. As he was passing through the door Raven made a play for her pistol anyway. She had it partially raised when the guard noticed her movement and again leveled the Glock at Levac’s head.
“I know you don’t care about your own safety, Agent Storm, but you’re killing your partner,” he said. “Drop it!”
Raven placed her gun on the table and raised her hands. The guard smiled and continued backing away. He was outside when the gun moved and he shot Levac. The bank manager screamed in terror and Raven picked up the Automag in a blur of motion that left the barrel pointed at the small gap between the door and frame. The Automag’s report sounded like a canon in the small space and the bullets left small dents in the vault door. And then it closed with a soft thud and the room was cloaked in stygian darkness.
Raven blinked and she could see the bank manager sitting at the table with her head in her hands and Levac slumped on the floor, one hand clamped to his shoulder. She moved to his side and checked the wound, which even with vampire sight was mostly a red blur.
“How are you doing, partner?” Raven asked.
“It feels like a clean exit,” he said. “But I’m bleeding like a stuck pig and it hurts like hell.”
Raven pulled her hand away and she could smell the blood pouring from the wound. Levac would bleed to death long before help could arrive. She drew one of her new knives and used it to slice her wrist. She held the cut to Levac’s lips.
“Drink.”
“You have got to be kidding,” Levac replied.
“It will save your life,” Raven said.
“Aren’t you already a quart or two low?” Levac asked.
“What are you two doing? We’re trapped in here!” the bank manager whined.
Raven ignored her. “I’m fine and it won’t take much, drink, dammit!”
She felt his lips on her wrist and the sharp pain as he sipped at the blood weeping from her wrist. After a moment she pulled away.
“Thanks,” Levac said. “That wasn’t too bad.”
“I eat healthy,” Raven replied.
She wrapped a piece of her blouse around the cut and turned toward the door. “Now let’s see if I can get us out of here.”
/>
LENOX HOTEL
BOSTON, MA. 10:00 P.M.
ASPEN SAT BACK FROM THE computer, rubbed her eyes and sipped from the cup of tea she’d made with the room’s small microwave. She’d finally gotten access to the Customs shipping database, but finding a single shipment without the shipping number was like finding a needle in a haystack.
She leaned forward and started going through the next page of manifests, looking for one addressed to Klien, all the while wondering how their system could be so outdated. Drug pushers needn’t worry about smuggling, they could probably just mail the stuff and get half of it through without all that messy border jumping.
She took another sip of tea and nearly dropped the cup when a sensation of fear and anger shot through her like a bolt of lightning. Raven was worried and angry, never a good sign. What could possibly have happened in a bank vault?
She kept working, the back of her mind wondering if she should rush to Raven’s side or not. Raven was the most capable and stubborn person she knew. Surely she could handle a bank manager.
She put her cup down and brought up another possibility, the ninth she’d looked at since she’d started.
There you are, she thought.
The crate had cleared customs within only a few days and had been picked up by a local shipping company to be delivered somewhere. The final destination wasn’t in the customs database.
She cracked her fingers and started hacking into the shipping company’s server, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Raven was in trouble. Again. It was bothering her so much she was having trouble concentrating on anything else. After a few moments she gave up and rushed from the room, ready for anything.
BEACON STREET
BOSTON, MA. 10:15 P.M.
RAVEN HAD TAKEN THE ASTON Martin with her but it hadn’t taken Aspen long to locate the FBI Ford. She borrowed it with very little difficulty and headed across town as quickly as she dared. The storm was in its full fury when she parked the big car behind the Rapide and hurried into the bank with her 10mm AMT Javelina held at her side. She was just in time to see the vault door open and Raven step out, followed by a bloody Levac and a whimpering woman she assumed was the bank manager.
“What happened?” Aspen asked.
“The bank guard took the gold, shot Rupert, and locked us in the vault,” Raven said. “I don’t suppose you saw a Hobbit with a Glock running down the street?”
Aspen holstered her pistol in her jacket. “Not so much. How did you get out of the vault?”
Raven waved at the vault door where she’d pulled an inner panel off. The metal had been peeled like an old banana. “It had an emergency release, assuming you had the right tools with you.”
“What kind of tools?” Aspen asked.
“A really pissed off Fürstin,” Levac said.
Aspen laughed and moved to check Levac’s wound. “You okay, Codumbo?”
“I’m fine, Raven took care of it.”
“You people are insane!” the bank manager said. “I want to speak to your supervisor!”
“Take a number,” Raven growled.
Levac pulled a bloody business card from his pocket and offered it to the manager. “His name is Abraham King, you can reach him at this number, you just have to wipe the blood off, first.”
The woman threw up her hands. “Disgusting!”
She stormed toward the door and vanished out into the rain.
“Have a nice day,” Aspen said to her retreating back.
She looked at Raven. “What the hell was her problem?”
“She didn’t like being shot at,” Raven replied. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you were in trouble,” Aspen said. “I was coming to rescue you, duh.”
Raven hugged her. “You’re a little short for a Stormtrooper, Asp.”
Aspen broke out laughing and kissed Raven’s cheek. “I knew you had a dork in there somewhere.”
She pulled away from Raven. “Was there anything else in the box?”
Levac pulled a knife and a scarf from his pocket along with a crumpled piece of paper. “Not much. He left us a list of names with our victims scratched out, an old piece of cloth and an antique pocket blade.”
Aspen could see a glow around the paper. She took it from Levac and examined the glimmering light along its edge.
“This paper isn’t paper, its parchment,” she said. “And it’s magikal.”
“What do you mean ‘magikal.’ Like magikal, magikal or you know, just real pretty and antique?” Levac asked.
“I mean dancing under the trees around a bonfire magikal,” Aspen replied.
“Walker was a witch?” Raven asked.
Aspen shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think he had someone make it for him.”
Raven frowned. “What for?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Aspen said.
Levac shook his head and walked toward the door. “This case is getting weirder all the time.”
“Where are you going?” Raven asked.
“To get a hotdog and wipe off some of this damn blood,” Levac replied.
Aspen watched him go. “You made him drink blood again, didn’t you?”
Raven nodded. “He was bleeding out and there is no cell service in the vault. He took a 10mm to the thoracoacromial artery.”
“Eww, not good. He’ll be okay, just let him get the taste out of his mouth,” Aspen said.
“I know. He’s just being Rupert. Tell me about the paper and other items,” Raven said.
“The paper is some kind of parchment, there is a spell built into it that I can see, but I’m not certain what it’s supposed to do,” Aspen said, holding the paper upside down. “It might be a protection spell, it has that kind of feel, but it would be better if we could find the witch that cast it.”
“And the chances of doing that are?” Raven asked.
Aspen shrugged. “Slim to none, it isn’t as if they signed on the bottom or something.”
She slipped it into her pocket and stretched out the piece of cloth. It was silk that had originally been white, but had faded to a sort of moldy yellow color with a handful of mottled stains, some of which were clearly blood. There was an imprint in the middle where a disk, probably the medallion, had been. There was also a tag.
“Kaye Nicole. Hey, I know that name,” she said.
“From where?” Raven asked.
“She’s a dressmaker,” Aspen replied.
“So this came from a dress?”
Before Aspen could reply Raven asked, “Wait, how do you know that?”
Aspen felt the heat rising in her cheeks. “I, um, was looking at wedding dresses. She was on the short list.”
“Wedding dresses? Really?”
Aspen found herself studying the cloth intently. “Yeah, so? A girl can hope, right? Anyway, I’m betting this was torn from the lining of a dress made in the late 1970s.”
“One of the victims from the cave in,” Raven said. “There was a teenaged girl among the victims. I doubt she would have been wearing a wedding dress, though.”
“She didn’t make wedding dresses back then, just designer clothes,” Aspen said. “I’d guess this belonged to her and I bet it matches the other pieces of cloth we found with the vics.”
Raven took the cloth back and sniffed at it. “I smell blood, but also basil and what might be marigold.”
“Those are parts of a protection ritual,” Aspen said.
“Protection from what?” Levac asked.
Aspen turned to see the detective standing in the door dripping water and chewing on a hotdog coated in mustard.
“Good question,” she said. “At the moment I have no idea.”
He took another bite and she could tell he was savoring the cheap mustard. “Well, while you two were in here making with the magik, I was speaking with Mrs. Acheson, the bank manager. She’s calmed down quite a bit and is speaking with the police now. I managed to get the guard�
��s name and home phone number. A little digging and a hotdog and voila, I have an address.”
He held out a water-soaked hotdog tray on which he’d written the address. Raven took it from him and wrote the address on a dry piece of paper.
“I doubt he’s running straight back home—” Aspen said.
“But we don’t really have any other leads,” Raven finished. “Come on, Rupe, let’s go poke around. Asp, you—”
“Go back and do research on the protection spell and find out where Klien had his shipment delivered. You two have fun storming the castle,” Aspen said.
She followed them out. The patrolman outside waved as they left then turned back to the bank manager, who was apparently giving him her life story.
Aspen handed him one of her shiny new business cards. “If you have any more questions, call me or my supervisor, we’ll be happy to help.”
“Thank you, Agent, um…”
“Technical specialist,” Aspen said. “Just call me Aspen.”
She turned away toward the Ford. Behind her the officer had already been dragged back into a conversation with Mrs. Acheson.
OAKLAND STREET
MANSFIELD, MA. 11:24 P.M.
THE GUARD, WHO HAD THE improbable name of Jack Cutter, had lived in a small apartment complex on the top floor. Raven led the way down a corridor that smelled of stale beer and cheap tobacco and was decorated in vintage 1970s wood paneling to the end where Cutter’s apartment door stood ajar. There was no light in the gap. Raven glanced at Levac, who flicked on his tactical light. When he looked ready, Raven pushed open the door with the toe of her boot.
“FBI, lay down on the ground with your hands on your head!” she yelled.
There was no answer and no movement. She stepped through with Levac close behind, his light and her vampire eyes making the room as bright as day. They were standing in a kitchen so small it only had a half-fridge and a two burner stove. A toaster over and coffee pot sat next to them, both so old they had to have been bought at a rummage sale.
The living room was decorated in flat-pack chic, with a small television and video game console stashed in the corner next to a comfortable looking but elderly recliner. Opposite them was a bed, also from a flat-pack store, and an oblong wrapped in black plastic. Raven just knew it was a body. She approached cautiously and opened the bag with two fingers. The pale face of Jack Cutter looked out at her. His throat had been cut from ear to ear.