by Skye Knizley
Raven popped from cover and the Automag barked twice. One of the men clutched at the two holes in his chest and pitched over the edge of the balcony to fall screaming to the pavement below. Raven ducked back just as a series of shots chewed up her cover. Pain screamed through her right shoulder and she dropped to the floor, gasping in surprise from the 7.62 bullet that had passed through the muscle and embedded itself in the opposite wall.
Gritting her teeth at the dull pain, Raven switched the Automag to her left hand. The weapon was as comfortable there as in her right. When the chatter of automatic gunfire paused again she rolled sideways firing the Automag until it clicked empty. When she hit the wall on the opposite side of the wide corridor the last of the gunmen were dead or dying, .30 carbine slugs piercing their chests and heads. Two more had fallen into the street below while the third lay in an awkward position on top of his AK.
Raven climbed to her knees and put her last fresh magazine into her pistol. These were some of Thad’s specials; she hated to waste them on regular humans, but hated getting shot even more.
When she was ready she straightened and moved down the corridor, precious blood running down her right arm. She checked the rooms on either side as she moved, searching for the last man and enigmatic Stein. She was halfway down the bullet-riddled hallway when an arm slammed through the gypsum wall on her right and punched her in the side of the head. She staggered sideways and fell on her rear, the Automag dropping from numb fingers. Ahead of her there was a loud crash and the person attached to the arm pushed through the wall. He wiped plaster dust from his leathers and Raven looked up into the face of someone who looked like Frankenstein’s monster, Adam. Stitches crisscrossed his face and bare arms, each piece of skin a different color than the rest of him. A cigar dangled from his lips, drooling smoke and burning plaster dust.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Raven said. “Stein, I presume?”
“In the flesh, lady,” Stein replied, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder.
“I’m Detective Raven Storm. Pleased to meet you,” Raven replied in a cool voice. “You’re under arrest for assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, possession of illegal firearms and probably about seventeen other infractions I don’t feel like thinking about. Lay down on the floor and put your hands behind your back.”
“You’re funny, little detective,” Stein said, balling up his massive fists. “You killed my crew and screwed up a well-paying contract, now I’m going to kill you. When I’m done maybe I’ll add your nice soft skin to my arm.”
“I didn’t kill all of them,” Raven said. “Some of them just got beaten unconscious. I’d rather not have to kill you and carry you out of here. What do you weigh, like three tons?”
Stein stepped forward, dust falling off his flattened head. “You should be a comedienne not a cop. It’s a pity you have to die, you’d be badass on my new crew.”
“Now look who’s being funny,” Raven said. “Don’t let the leather fool you. I just find it to be comfortable and well-wearing. I think everyone will be wearing it in the future.”
“I’ll give it to my old lady then,” Stein said.
Raven smirked. “Yeah, I’m sure it will go well with her beehive hair.”
Stein snarled at Raven, reaching back to rip a two by four out of the wall he’d destroyed. When he turned back, Raven’s boot caught him in the stomach. He grunted and lost his footing, falling back into the wall. Raven leapt to her feet, the wound in her shoulder healed. She followed the kick with a back spin punch to Stein’s face and a side kick to his ribs that did little more than make him snort. He straightened and swung his two by four like Babe Ruth going for the wall. Raven tried to block the swing and felt something in her arm break along with the wood. She bit back the pain and danced out of Stein’s way. Across from her Stein examined his broken club then tossed it aside.
“You’re tougher than you look, Detective,” Stein said. “That should have shattered your arm.”
Raven turned sideways, keeping her shattered arm away from the muscular man. “It was just a little wood. I got worse canings in Catholic school. If that’s the best you can do you may as well cuff yourself now.”
Stein growled and strode forward, his scarred fists swinging. Raven ducked and blocked as best she could, backing toward the balcony. With each blow that landed her left arm screamed in agony and the room swam. She knew her system was trying to heal the damage, but she simply didn’t have the blood-energy left. It was all she could do to remain conscious and keep fighting.
“Are you going to fall down?” Stein said, swinging another haymaker at Raven’s head. “You don’t look so good.”
Raven grinned with all the bravado she could muster. “It’s just something I caught from one of your goons. I’ve got all the time in the world, so why don’t you give up while you have a chance?”
Stein laughed and kept swinging. His method wasn’t skilled or even varied. He simply punched with as much force as possible. It was a tactic that was wearing on the already wounded Raven.
Raven danced back again and spun a kick at Stein’s head, more to get a look behind her than anything. Stein grunted at the impact and spat out a tooth, but kept coming, his approach causing Raven to dance back again. She could feel her left arm tingling and knew it had healed enough she could at least use it. She shifted her feet and gauged Stein’s lumbering approach. As he stepped again and prepared another powerful punch, Raven did a handstand and wrapped her legs around the giant man’s neck, pulling him off balance. She then used her momentum to swing between his legs to land behind him. She did a handspring to her feet and kicked Stein in the back, making him stagger and fall forward. He caught himself in the debris at the edge of the balcony and started to push himself back up.
Raven wasn’t having any. She ran up his back and off the edge of the balcony, spinning so that she caught Stein’s head with both hands. Her falling weight snapped his neck like a pencil and she hung there, watching the life ebb from his eyes.
She was struggling to pull herself back up when Levac appeared on the balcony. He reached down and pulled her up by her good arm, helping her to sit on the porch out of view of the SWAT team and approaching officers.
“Thanks, Rupe,” Raven said, surprised how weak she sounded. “How’s the rookie?”
“I think he’s going to make it. SWAT helped him get to an ambulance while you had these guys distracted,” Levac replied. “He went through a lot of your blood supply before they got here, though.”
“Good,” Raven said, holding her head with one hand.
Levac pulled something out of one of his pockets and held it out with a grin. “I managed to save one of your favorite vintage, though.”
Raven opened her eyes and looked at the pouch of blood. Nothing had ever looked as tasty in her life. She took the pouch gratefully and bit into it, draining the contents in just a few swallows. She spat out the last bit and coughed. By the time she got to the last of the blood her brain had reminded her what she was doing and the disgusting taste came back with a vengeance.
“There is no way I am ever going to get used to that,” she said, leaning back.
Levac laughed and sat next to her. “Look at it from my perspective. I have to watch you. How am I supposed to get used to a partner that can punch through walls and drinks blood?”
Raven giggled and kissed Levac’s cheek. “With many years of practice, Rupe. Many years of practice. Come on, help me get out of this dump before SWAT and the paramedics get here. I’m in no mood for an exam.”
FIVE HOURS LATER, THE CITY was bathed in gray overcast twilight. Rain clouds hung low over the city and the west wind had turned cold, making the city seem dark and unforgiving.
Raven parked the Shelby on the street down the block from Club Black. She’d taken the time to get cleaned up and change into a fresh pair of leather pants, layered tank and her treasured black leather jacket. She’d added an electric green scarf that m
atched her eyes and let her fury-red hair spill down her back in a waterfall of color.
She’d also been forced, under much protest, to get a check-up and fill out a full report on the Scorched Earth incident. SWAT had found sixteen kilos of Thirst along with several bottles of animal sedative and a dart rifle of the kind used by zoos and nature preserves to subdue wild animals. The Thirst alone was enough, in Raven’s mind, to warrant Stein and his crew’s decimation, but the captain and IA didn’t quite see things that way. Raven had a feeling, though, that there was more to that story than they knew. It was nagging at her like something caught in a tooth. What had they needed a tranq rifle for and what had Stein meant about a contract?
She and Levac entered Club Black and headed into the bar. An odd scent made Raven turn her head; a well-dressed man in a black suit and turtleneck, black hair slicked away from his temples and a hint of five-o‘clock shadow was watching her, his sapphire eyes locked on hers. He raised a glass of scotch in Raven’s direction, a gesture that made her even more curious. She nodded back and continued toward the walk-in humidor.
As before, the room smelled of expensive tobacco and leather. A handful of men in suits were selecting cigars from the cases with the assistance of Josef Diarmait, who was wearing a dark suit minus the jacket, his grey shirt-sleeves held in place with red garters. He smiled at Raven and Levac, but continued to assist his customers. Raven and Levac browsed the shelves while they waited, taking turns watching Diarmait. When the last of the men had left, Raven approached the counter while Levac locked the door.
“That was ominous, Detective,” Diarmait said.
“We just don’t want to be disturbed,” Raven replied. “I have a few more questions about the Franks case for you.”
Diarmait pulled a cigar from beneath the counter and lit it with a wooden match. He let the match flare in his fingers for a moment before tossing it into the brass waste can at his side.
“Of course, Detective,” he said when he was done. “I understand you have young Mr. DiFronzo in custody.”
“I cannot confirm or deny anything you may have read in the paper,” Raven replied. “This is an ongoing investigation.”
“Of course, Detective Storm,” Diarmait said. “How can I assist you further?”
“Where were you between midnight and dawn last night?” Raven asked.
“I was at home, in bed reading,” Diarmait said. “Where any sensible being would be at that hour.”
Levac leaned on the counter and pulled out his notebook. “Do you have any witnesses to that fact?”
“Of course not. I’m not married and didn’t bring home any company. Unless you’re going to interrogate my book I think we’re both out of luck,” Diarmait replied.
Raven asked, “Do you have a security system that can confirm what time you arrived at your home? Or perhaps you live in an apartment complex with cameras and a doorman?”
Diarmait shook his head again. “My building is key access and, as far as I know the security system hasn’t worked since I moved in a few weeks ago. Detective, am I under suspicion of something?”
“We’re just trying to rule you out as a suspect,” Levac said in a reassuring tone. “You did, after all, point out Mr. DiFronzo. Did you have any ulterior motive for suggesting him to us?”
Diarmait bristled and put his cigar out. “Of course not, Detective! Unless you are charging me with something I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Raven glowered at Diarmait, her vampiric senses kicking her hindbrain, but she couldn’t put her finger on what was bothering her. She was getting tired of loose threads tugging on her subconscious.
“All right, Mr. Diarmait,” she said. “Just remember I’ve got two bodies in the morgue and I’m fresh out of suspects.”
WHEN THEY EXITED THE HUMIDOR, Raven looked for the man who had caught her eye on the way in. A young woman now sat in his place. She filed it away with the other weird things going on and followed her partner toward the doors.
Back outside Levac leaned close. “Why didn’t we take him in?”
“I have a feeling he may be more valuable free and clear. We’ll put surveillance on him and see what we get,” Raven replied. “Maybe we scared him enough to do something stupid.”
“Then what?” Levac asked.
“Then we pay a visit to his apartment while he’s at work,” Raven replied.
Levac sighed. “We don’t have a warrant, Ray.”
“I know. I don’t care. I’ve got two dead innocents, two dead rookies and no suspects I can sink my teeth into,” Raven replied. “Maybe there is something at his apartment that will shed some light on this case and open up some leads.”
The two detectives returned to the Shelby and drove across town to the address listed on Diarmait’s DMV file. As he’d said it was a smaller building at the edge of Bronzeville. It was made from aged brick with beige concrete facings and trim. The front doors were glass and locked by a single key lock. Beyond was a lobby containing mailboxes, a single elevator and a door that was marked ‘stairs.’
Raven tripped lightly up the stairs and crouched to look at the lock. She pulled a set of lock picks from her jacket and attacked the lock, opening it within seconds. Levac held the door while she ducked through then let it close behind them. Raven checked the mailboxes until she found Diarmait’s. The freshly printed sticker indicated he was in apartment 4B.
The elevator had seen better days. The brass hadn’t seen a hint of polish in at least a decade and the once papered walls were now peeling so bad they looked like a nineties grunge painting.
They stepped out on the fourth floor. Faded rose wallpaper covered the walls and a threadbare white and rose carpet covered the floor with torn patches showing dark hardwood beneath. The hallway smelled of sweat, cigar smoke and a hint of peyote. Raven frowned at the mixture of scents and walked down the corridor to apartment 4B. She picked this lock as well and pushed through into an old but spacious apartment. To the left was a small galley kitchen with clean, serviceable appliances circa 1955. To the right was a closet and Levac rifled through it, pulling out a pair of white jumpsuits wrapped in clear plastic complete with boots and gloves. Raven took a photo with her phone and continued deeper into the apartment. The short hallway opened into an oblong sitting area with a bay window that looked north toward the heart of the city and showed the blood moon hanging in the distance. A futon, beanbag chair and television were the only furniture.
Raven turned away and moved down another corridor that ended in a single door. She turned the knob, paused and then pushed it open with her toe. Beyond was the apartment’s single bedroom. A king-sized bed, two night tables and two antique lamps were placed against the far wall. A matching dresser was next to the entry door while a gun safe sat next to what looked like the door to the master bath. The entire room smelled like cigar smoke with undertones of blood.
She picked up a book from the side table and read the title; Der Werwolf Buch. She’d never read it, but she knew what it was. It was the Lycan equivalent of the Totentanz. There was a copy in the library at home. She flipped through a few pages and found a torn piece of paper placed as a bookmark. Her German was rusty, but the chapter was named Das Blut Mond.
She put the book down and moved toward the gun safe, pulling on a pair of gloves as she approached. She found the safe to be locked and gave it a pass for the moment. Behind her, Levac had also donned gloves and was searching through the dresser drawers. She glanced at him when he pulled out a pair of leopard print boxers and held them up for size. She shook her head and he grinned sheepishly before sliding them back into the drawer.
Raven laughed at Levac’s attempt to lighten the mood and walked into the bathroom. It showed signs of recent use including something red around the ring of the tub as well as a dark trail around the rim of the sink. Raven photographed both and silently wished she had a warrant. Tentatively she dipped a finger in the red ring in the sink drain and raised it to her nose.
It was unmistakably paint. Blood red paint.
What the hell was he painting? she wondered. And how is he involved?
She exited the bathroom to find Levac holding a piece of red stone. It was circular and about the size of his hand. Sharp points extended from the rim, each one slightly different in size and the surface was covered in runes Raven didn’t recognize, but suspected were native American.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I’ve no idea,” Levac said. “It was in the bottom drawer under a bunch of camouflage clothing.”
Levac put the disk in an evidence bag, sealed it and put it in his pocket. “Did you find anything?”
“The bathroom has red paint all over the place and smells like cheap cigars. The paint is too watered down for me to get a good scent and determine where it came from,” Raven said. “There is also a gun safe I didn’t mess with.”
Levac looked at the safe. “Can you crack it? Maybe those bone tools are inside.”
“Probably not,” Raven replied. “I can open it, but someone will definitely know we were here. Unless we get a warrant nothing here is admissible and I don’t want to risk a conviction on an unlawful search charge. Taking that disk thing is probably bad enough.”
Levac frowned. He opened his mouth to say something when Raven’s phone started ringing. She pulled it from her pocket, glanced at the number and slid a thumb across the screen.
“Hey Dominique, what’s up?” she asked.
“Ravenel, you are needed right away,” Dominique replied, her voice sounding high-pitched and anxious.
Raven turned for the door. Levac followed without a word, wiping down the doors with his handkerchief as they exited.
“What’s going on?” Raven asked. “Is Mom okay?”
“Lady Evangelina has arrived quite distraught,” Dominique said. “Her familiar, Karina, disappeared while she was taking her daily rest. There are signs of a struggle and she is blaming Valentina.”
