Aspen

by Skye Knizley

  The right of Skye Knizley to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him/her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it was published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by: Dreams2Media

  Edited by: Elizabeth A. Lance

  Copyright© 2013-2016 Skye Knizley

  All rights reserved

  Raven Storm™ and The Storm Chronicles™

  property of Skye Knizley.

  Vamptasy Publishing

  www.vamptasy.com

  Dedication

  For the fans that made this story possible.

  The Storm Chronicles

  Stormrise

  Stormrage

  Stormwind

  Shadowstorm

  Raven

  Storm

  Aspen

  Night Raven

  Other Storm Chronicles Novels

  Fresh Blood

  Blood Highway

  CONTENTS

  FOREWORD

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  FOREWORD

  I have a secret. Actually, more than one, but I am coming clean about this one.

  Aspen is a character that was originally created to die and hurt Raven. I know that sounds awful, but the series outline from 2014 is far different than what it is now and a novel was slated to be released between Stormwind and Shadowstorm. A book titled Stormbreak was outlined in which Aspen is brutally murdered and Raven is left broken.

  The book died during writing for one simple reason. I realized I couldn’t kill Aspen, at least not so soon. For one, the stack of cards and letters saying how much she was loved, how much readers wanted to know more about her and how much they loved the addition of magik indicated that fans would lynch me if I killed her off too soon. They wanted answers and her corpse would have difficulty providing them.

  As important as that response was to the decision, there was something else I needed to admit. I loved her, too. I hadn’t meant to fall in love, I’d created her as a friend and love interest that Raven would miss when she died. But Aspen grew on me, and as she grew on me so did her personality and role in the series, which resulted in the volume you now hold.

  Her inclusion allows Rupert to grow as a character, as well, and that is no bad thing. Rupert has depths that have yet to be revealed and they have just gotten more mysterious as time goes on.

  If anything, this experience has taught me that Raven’s world is fluid. There are rules that will never change, laws of the Totentanz that are as unshakeable as the pillars of heaven. However, other aspects can be adjusted to fit the story and what feels right.

  After all, it is the story that matters, not the path taken.

  Skye

  May, 2016

  Darkness and Light, the Path of a Witch

  Forget what you think you know about the world. There is another world, a world where true evil exists, lurking in the darkness. Vampires, Lycans, Demons, the Bogeyman and all the other things that go bump in the night walk among you, rub shoulders with you…and feed on you.

  I am part of that darker world. My mother was a faerie, my father, human. I grew up with one foot in the Faewild, the other in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. On my 15th birthday I was given a choice. I’ll save you the complicated words and just say, I made the human one.

  I’m the blood-familiar of Raven Storm, Fürstin to the Mistress of Chicago. I am also one of the most powerful witches in the country. Which isn’t as fun as it sounds, believe me. My magik tends to attract those who would exploit it for evil. Someone succeeded, once. Never again.

  As long as I have breath, I will fight.

  As long as my heart beats, I will stay by Raven’s side.

  My name, is Aspen.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This novel takes place almost entirely in the gap between Stormrage and Stormwind.

  PROLOGUE

  Tempeste Manor, Outside Chicago, Midnight Two years ago…

  Candles flickered and reflected off the walls of Raven Storm’s bedroom in Tempeste Manor, casting shadows that danced in time to the classic jazz playing softly on the antique phonograph beneath the window. Aspen lay on the king-size bed dressed in what could only be called lingerie because “dental floss” was already taken. The tiny wisp of cloth that passed between her legs and rose to circle her throat was as black as the night outside, while her wrists were wrapped in bracelets of red satin. She’d unbraided her hair for the first time in weeks and Dominique had applied cosmetics with skill rivaling any Hollywood artist.

  “Is this really necessary, Mother?” Raven asked.

  She was standing beside the bed dressed, as usual, in black leather pants and a blue satin blouse that did nothing to hide her figure. Her silver Automag pistol hung beneath her left arm, matched by a pair of magazines under the left.

  “Indeed, it is, my childe,” Valentina Tempeste replied.

  Lady Valentina, Mistress of the City, was dressed in a black gown made of leather, satin, and lace. It covered her from ankles to neck, or would have if it hadn’t been slit high enough to show her left hip.

  Raven rolled her eyes. “Mother, I healed Rupert with nothing but some blood, the rest of this is nonsense.”

  “I agree with Raven,” Aspen said.

  “Quiet, familiar! You may speak when the ceremony is over.”

  The smile in Valentina’s eyes took away the sting of her words. Aspen smiled her reply and held still. She didn’t think anyone would hurt her, but then again she had betrayed the Family. Better not to annoy anyone just yet.

  “This is just drama, Mom,” Raven said.

  Valentina sighed. “Ravenel, ceremony is important and Aspen is your first true familiar. We both know Rupert doesn’t count. You are bringing her fully into the family, and I, for one, want to see it done properly. Now, get the chalice and do as I say.”

  Raven looked at Aspen with an apologetic look in her eyes and picked up the cup that was on the nightstand. It was made of crystal, with a sort of skull-shaped emblem and silver rim.

  “Good. Now, repeat after me. Blood of my heart, bond this woman to my soul—” Valentina said.

  That’s when Raven had enough. Aspen could tell by the shadow of anger that crossed her face and the flicker in her eyes. Raven stared at her mother for a moment, then bit her wrist and let the blood flow into the cup.

  “What are you doing?” Valentina cried. “The ceremony is ruined, we shall have to start over—”

  “Calm down, Mother. She’s my familiar, I will bring her into the family my way,” Raven sa
id.

  She licked the wound in her wrist to slow the blood, then offered Aspen the cup.

  “Aspen Kincaid, will you be my familiar? My partner and friend in all things, bonded by blood, our minds and hearts as one?” she asked.

  Aspen smiled. She couldn’t help it. Anything was better than being an unbonded familiar and Raven was an amazing person. She took the cup and held it in both hands. It was heavier than it looked and she had to hold it tight lest she drop it and spill blood all over the floor. She inhaled the aroma and looked into the cup as if it were a well containing a precious soul. It wasn’t like Xavier’s blood, which had been as black as his heart. This was red, like dark cherries, and smelled the way Raven did; a mix of cinnamon and honey. It wasn’t what she’d been expecting, and she forgot herself for a moment.

  “Duh,” she said.

  Valentina’s jaw hardened and Aspen imagined she could hear the elder vampire’s teeth grinding.

  “I mean, I will, Ravenel. By this blood, I will be yours. Your friend, partner, and servant in all things,” Aspen said.

  Raven shook her head. “Not servant, Asp. I will never ask you to serve me. Just be my friend and do what you do, that’s all I ask.”

  Aspen smiled again. “Not servant, then. Friend and partner.”

  Raven nodded once. “Then drink of my blood, let it fill and nurture you.”

  “Until death do you part,” Valentina added.

  Aspen saw the look on Raven’s face and tried not to laugh. When she could, she raised the cup to her lips and drank deeply. The blood was, well, blood. But it carried with it a pleasing taste. Aspen didn’t quite understand the magik, but she knew it had something to do with being Xavier’s familiar. The change from human to familiar made blood more palatable, bordering on delicious.

  Aspen set the cup aside a moment before the pain started. Her muscles cramped and she felt as if her eyes were on fire. She felt Raven’s arms around her and knew that, somehow, everything would be okay. From somewhere above she heard Valentina say, “Aspen, my daughter, welcome to the House Tempeste…”

  CHAPTER ONE

  New Haven, Connecticut, Seven Years Ago

  Snow fell in sheets as thick as lead and covered the City of New Haven in what they were calling the worst Nor’easter in a decade. The city, normally bustling with activity on even the worst days, now sat empty and quiet beneath the hush of falling snow.

  Aspen-Fyre huddled in the shadows of an alley, her arms wrapped around her body for what warmth they would provide. She’d never known cold like this. The Faewild was always warm, always welcoming. The Earthrealm was cold and grey. Forbidding. Even Wyoming had never seemed this icy and bitter.

  The Fae Regeant’s judgement had been harsh. He hadn’t seen Willow-Fyre’s compassion as anything more than the spark of defiance and his punishment had been swift and terrible. She had been stripped of her wings and sentenced to death within the Faewild. As Aspen-Fyre was her mother’s child, but not yet of age, she had been banished within moments of her mother’s death and found herself here, in this frozen hell.

  Aspen-Fyre straightened and stumbled through the snow toward the lights of a nearby diner. Though most nearby businesses were closed, the diner was open and serving to the plow drivers and city workers out combating the storm. Judging from the three plows and six people within, even they were giving up the fight against Mother Nature.

  She pushed through doors and took a seat in a nearby booth where she fought back her shivers. She was wearing nothing but a tunic of blue silk, leggings and ankle boots all more suited to the warm Faewild autumn and not the storm blowing outside.

  The diner was warm and decorated in early 1950s style, with a chrome and teal counter, pink and teal tables and matching leather booths. A jukebox sat in the middle of the diner and Elvis was belting out one of his number ones, something about a clam bake.

  “Can I get you something, honey?”

  Aspen-Fyre looked up at the waitress standing beside her. She was an attractive, dark-skinned woman with long hair and an old but clean checked uniform.

  “Could I have some hot chocolate?”

  The waitress made a note on her pad. “Sure can, honey, I’ll get that out for you right away.”

  Aspen-Fyre smiled her thanks and rummaged through the purse at her waist. It didn’t hold much. A few stones she’d collected, a vial of faerie dust, her pocket spell-book, Wyoming driver’s license and some money held in an old mint box. She counted out the bills and chewed on the inside of her lip. Thirty-five dollars wouldn’t get her far, but it was better than nothing.

  The waitress, whose nametag read “Cassie”, brought out a mug of steaming hot chocolate and set it in front of Aspen-Fyre.

  “There you go, hon. Can I get you anything else?”

  “No thank you, I just need something to warm me up and let me get my bearings,” Aspen-Fyre replied.

  Cassie looked at her. “Are you alright? You seem a little out of sorts.”

  Aspen-Fyre sipped the cocoa, which was one of her favorite human things. “I’m a little lost, but I’ll be okay, thank you.”

  Cassie smiled. “I hear that. We all get a little lost sometimes. If you need anything, just call. My name is Cassie.”

  “Aspen-Fyre.”

  Cassie blinked. “That’s an unusual name. Exotic.”

  Aspen-Fyre met her eyes. “Most people just call me Aspen.”

  “Aspen, then. If you need anything, holler.”

  Aspen watched her walk off to refill someone’s coffee then turned her attention back to her meager belongings. The Faewild was closed to her, her mother was gone and she had no money. Money was simple enough, magik would provide. But what next? She couldn’t even get a place to live on her own, in the Earthrealm she was still a child.

  She drank her cocoa and stared at the clock on the wall. After a moment she waved at Cassie, who came right over.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Do you have a phone I could use, please? I want to call my father.”

  Cassie purses her lips then shrugged. “We don’t usually let customers use the phone, but I suppose in this weather it’s alright.”

  She pointed at the old pay-phone in the corner. Like much of the diner, it was an antique with a polished chrome face and old-fashioned rotary dial.

  “You don’t need money, just dial nine and the number.”

  “Thank you.”

  Aspen finished her hot chocolate and set the mug aside. She then placed her money on the seat beside her and sprinkled a small amount of faerie dust over it while muttering a spell under her breath. The crisp bills folded and gave off a tiny wisp of smoke before replicating into a small pile worth well over a thousand dollars. Aspen placed a five dollar bill on the table and put the rest in her purse before standing and moving to the phone, where she dialed the only phone number she knew.

  “Jackson City Police, Sergeant Wilson speaking,” a gruff voice said.

  “May I speak with Detective Kincaid, please?” Aspen asked.

  “The detective is a busy man, may I ask who is calling?” Wilson asked.

  Aspen took a deep breath. “His daughter, Aspen.”

  She could hear the smile in Wilson’s voice. “I thought I recognized your voice, I haven’t seen you since you were just a small ‘tater, how are you, kiddo?”

  “Not great, Officer Wilson. Can I talk to Dad?”

  “I’m sorry, munchkin, your dad is off on a case and hasn’t reported in yet. May I take a message?” Wilson asked.

  Aspen rested her head against the phone. “Just…just tell him I am okay and I’m coming home.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. Are you in some kind of trouble? I can call the local LEO’s—”

  Aspen cut him off. “No sir, I’m not in trouble, not really. I’ll be there in a few days and explain ev
erything to Dad. Please just let him know I am okay and coming home.”

  “Sure thing, kiddo,” Wilson said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “No. But I’m alive.”

  Aspen ended the call and turned to find Cassie standing nearby.

  “You do seem like you’re in some kind of trouble,” she said.

  Aspen forced a smile. “It’s just been a really tough day. Are there any stores around where I can get some warmer clothes? I’m not exactly from around here.”

  Cassie cocked her head. “I noticed, you aren’t really dressed for a New England winter. How did you get here?”

  Aspen thought quickly. “I hitched a ride and this is where they let me off.”

  Cassie nodded her understanding. “Trucker, huh? That’s dangerous for a kid like you, being out all alone. Most drivers are good people, but not all are quite so nice. Do you parents know you’re traveling alone?”

  “I can take care of myself,” Aspen said.

  Cassie made a face. “Yeah, I can see that. Not much is going to be open in this mess. There is a charity salvage store a few blocks away, Linda tends to stay open regardless, just in case a stray happens by needing a coat or shovel. You might try there.”

  This time Aspen’s smile was genuine. “Thank you, Cassie.”

  She turned for the door and felt Cassie’s eyes on her back. She paused with one hand on the handle and looked back. Cassie was staring at her, concern in her eyes. Aspen smiled as brightly as she could. “I’m older than I look, please don’t worry.”

  Cassie didn’t say anything and Aspen pushed out into the snow. She found the salvage store down the street exactly where Cassie had said it would be. The light from its windows and wide doors spilled invitingly into the freezing night and Aspen was grateful for the blast of heat that hit her when she stepped inside. The store was large, perhaps half the size of your average ‘big box store’, with everything divided into sections. Aspen smiled at the lone cashier, a middle-aged woman reading a comic book, and walked toward the junior’s section where she selected a warm coat, some not too worn jeans and a variety of tops decorated with skulls and skeletal kittens. From there she carried her haul to the shoe department where she found some serviceable shearling boots that had been dyed purple, then to a pile of long-forgotten backpacks. She selected one that had a skull on the back and carried it all to the front. The cashier looked at the pile in surprise.