Stormrise
A Novel of Raven Storm
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.
Cover Design by: Vivid Designs
Edited by: Elizabeth A. Lance
Copyright© 2013
All rights reserved
Vamptasy Publishing
To “The Gamers” with love.
PROLOGUE
The neon lights of the ‘All Live, All Nude’ sign flickered in the rain, showering the street with sparks that sizzled and flared in the cold night, an electric cadence to match the distant rumble of thunder as dark clouds continued to roll in off the lake and blanket the Windy City in an autumnal thunderstorm. Detective Raven Storm stood beneath the sparking sign, her pale skin contrasting with a waterfall of hair so red it was almost black. Her green eyes glowed with a feral light in the alternating flashes of lightning from the storm and sparks showering from the tilting sign above.
Raven’s heels clicked on the sidewalk and splashed in puddles as she walked back and forth in the shadows, her stylish grey pantsuit and silk blouse darkened where the cold rain had soaked through. She didn't notice the chill. She was watching the apartment building opposite the club for her latest and only suspect in a series of brutal murders that had taken the lives of seventeen women in the last three weeks. The news called him the Lakeside Strangler; the details of his savage attacks had been leaked to the press and the city had been in a panic ever since. She was going to end his killing spree tonight, one way or another.
Shortly before one in the morning she saw him: a young heartthrob, his black suit and fedora drenched with rain. He held an umbrella in one hand, a gorgeous young woman’s arm in the other, keeping her safe from the rain under the umbrella while he got soaked. Raven watched the couple enter the old apartment building, her heart beating faster. She didn’t want to wait, didn’t want to endanger another woman, but she had to be sure. The suspect had evaded her before and this could be just a young couple out for a lark; she'd had only a glimpse of his face before he had vanished into the darkness. Shooting the wrong guy would be bad form and lead to red tape.
Raven held her ground, waiting until the pair had entered the elevator before sprinting across the street and bounding up the stairs two at a time, her balance perfect as she ran, her heels ringing out on the ground. She slid to a halt in front of the elevators and rang for the car, tapping one heel against the floor while she waited for the doors to open, hoping she wouldn't again be too late or that she would be wrong altogether.
Seconds later she stepped out on the twelfth floor of the building. The suspect's apartment was at the end of the hall and Raven jogged towards it, her senses stretched to the maximum. When she reached the apartment, she pressed her ear to the steel security door and listened intently. Somewhere inside she could hear the couple kissing and the faint rustle of the woman’s dress as the man pawed at her. The sound of kissing ended abruptly; in her mind’s eye Raven saw her suspect pulling his victim’s dress over her head before wrapping his hands around her slender neck. She could wait no longer; if he followed the pattern he would soon strangle and rape his victim and make his escape. With a single, powerful blow, she kicked the door open and crashed through, her left hand drawing the stainless-steel Automag pistol from its holster beneath her jacket.
She had been right. The suspect was kneeling over the woman, her dress draped over his shoulders like a cape, his hands wrapped around her slender throat in a vice-like grip. The woman writhed and gasped for air, her legs flailing between his thighs as she fought to escape.
“Chicago Police!” Raven yelled, the gun pointed evenly at the man's head. “Release the woman and freeze!”
The suspect smiled and raised his hands, allowing the woman between his knees to wheeze and cough for breath.
“Of course, officer,” he said in a German-accented voice. “Have I done something wrong? My girlfriend and I were just having a little exotic fun!”
“Shut up and keep your hands where I can see them.” Raven moved closer, her eyes flicking between the gasping woman and the suspect. "You are under arrest for battery and second-degree assault!"
“I think not, officer,” he replied gleefully. “I find prison to be so boring and confining. Catch me if you can!”
The man moved in a blur, leaping to his feet and rushing towards the young detective with his arms stretched wide.
Raven fired twice, but he was so supernaturally quick that her shots went wide, punching melon-sized holes in the wall behind him. She didn’t have time to adjust her aim before the large man slammed into her, knocking her to the floor. Her head cracked against the hard tile flooring and stars jumped behind her eyes, making them water. When she could see again, he was straddling her, his wine-scented breath warm in her nose.
“Now, I'll kill you, and then take my pleasure with her,” he crowed, saliva trailing from his lips. “Two damsels for the price of one; what could be better? Such a beautiful dark and stormy night!”
Raven growled and writhed under the larger man, recoiling in disgust as she felt his swelling manhood pressed against her thigh.
“I’m a Chicago police officer,” she said between clenched teeth. “You kill me and you'll be out of options. You'll have nowhere to run and it will be life in prison without parole. Let me go and give yourself up!”
The killer leaned closer, his tongue trailing over Raven’s cheek before he whispered, “Oh! No! No, no, no! I have given you a death sentence and it will be carried out! Once you are dead I'll have all the options in the world. Do I take your body or kill the other one? Do I take her then kill her? Kill her then take her? Decisions, decisions, it's so hard to choose; I'm giddy with anticipation!”
Giggling like a maniac, he ground his crotch into Raven’s thigh, moaning with lust and perverse pleasure at the feeling of the helpless woman beneath him.
Raven snarled and closed her eyes tight, ignoring the madman on top of her. When she opened them again, her green eyes glowed with power, the black pupils becoming the feral slits of a predatory cat. With a growl, she head-butted the man, breaking his nose and causing him to loosen his grip. She then pushed him away with all her strength, sending him flying across the room to land painfully on top of an antique side table.
“I'm also,” she said, regaining her feet, “the youngest child of Valentina, Mistress of the City. Surrender and I'll see you get a fair trial before they lock your ass away. Keep fighting me and I'll surely pull your head off!”
The killer rolled off the side table and stretched, his back cracking loudly.
“Ah, you would be the Mistress’s bastard child, then!” he replied with a sneer. “The pathetic half-vampire! Your father was a police detective too, wasn’t he? Dead before his time? Head all blown off with his own gun? It will be a pleasure to feel your corpse cool beneath me as I take you one last time!”
Still grinning, the killer shook, his skin melting and flowing like butter in the sun, his shape exploding outward until he looked altogether alien. He blinked huge, multifaceted eyes and flexed claws longer than Raven’s entire arm, each joint cracking as bones settled into place.
“A doppelganger!” Raven breathed. “No wonder you were so hard to catch.”
“Indeed,” the creature replied in a chorus
of voices. “Our body is legion, and when we finish with you, we will move on and continue our work elsewhere! So many beautiful women, so little time, as they say!”
Twittering in harmony with himself, the doppelganger approached again, his long arms reaching for the much smaller woman. Raven danced back out of the way, her heightened reflexes allowing her to avoid the clumsy grab.
“You killed seventeen girls, including my friend Sydnee,” she hissed. “You’re going nowhere, but back to hell where you belong. I’m more than just any old half-breed.”
The creature that had appeared human, laughed and made a swipe for Raven, his claws whistling past her face.
“Oh, we remember your friend! Cute, with blonde hair and eyes the color of the sea on a stormy day?” he asked in a mocking tone. “Yes! She lasted much longer than the others; it took her almost ten minutes to stop fighting and die. We think she was waiting for you to save her, wasn’t she? Pathetic dhampyr, too weak to save your friend!”
“That’s it!” Raven snarled, letting her fangs extend. “I have had enough of you!”
With a skill born of heartache and fury, Raven kicked the creature squarely in the groin, the toe of her heel pulping his genitals and causing him to keen in pain. She followed the kick with a series of punches and chops, any one powerful enough to have shattered the skull of a normal man.
The doppelganger swayed backwards, whimpering in pain, one hand cupping its ruined crotch, the other flailing at Raven, trying to block her vicious attack.
“Please, no!” he howled, shifting back into human shape. “Please, we’ll be good! Tell your mother; she can use someone with our talents! We can be anyone! Think of all the possibilities! All the information we can provide!”
“Not a chance,” Raven said. “Your life was over the second you touched Sydnee; you just didn’t know it yet. Now that I know what you are, it's my duty to put you down. My mother has no use for monsters like you!”
Allowing no quarter, Raven lashed out with another blinding fury of blows, ending with a roundhouse kick that sent the doppelganger through the sliding glass door, across the balcony, and over the railing to fall screaming into the street below.
Knowing what she would see, Raven ran to the railing and looked down. Thirteen stories below, the doppelganger lay dead in the street, sparks from the neon sign falling on his naked body and sizzling in his wide, staring eyes.
“Marvelous,” Raven muttered. “Frost is not going to like this.”
CHAPTER ONE
The squall had passed during the night, leaving the city crisp and clean like fresh-laundered linen. The bright afternoon that glittered off the city’s buildings was just giving way to star-filled twilight when Raven Storm parked her grey and black 1967 Shelby GT 500 behind the two-story brick building that served as the fourth district station house.
She climbed from her car and glanced at her reflection in the wide windows overlooking the street. She ran her fingers through the ponytail that hung down her back and straightened the steel rods that held it in place and kept the D&G sunglasses from falling off her head. She then adjusted the knee high boots that came up over her black pants before smoothing the blue tunic sweater that concealed her Automag. It was her idea of casual work attire and she looked like she had stepped off the cover of a magazine. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and, satisfied with her look, grabbed her purse from the passenger seat and made her way up the back stairs to the squad room she shared with nine other detectives. As always, the dingy room was dark in spite of the glow from dozens of fluorescent bulbs and smelled of stale sweat and coffee with a faint undertone of cheap scotch used to keep the demons at bay.
Lieutenant Christian Frost, a man who always reminded Raven of Dick Van Dyke, was sitting on her desk waiting for her, a sour expression on his face and a pair of rubber bands twisting between his fingers. He looked up when Raven approached, his clear blue eyes meeting hers. “You'd better have a good explanation for the mess you left on the street last night, Storm,” he said in a low voice. “I told you to bring a suspect in for trial, not toss him out a thirteen-story window!”
Raven plopped her purse down next to her chair and sat on the desk opposite the lieutenant, crossing her legs beneath her.
“Good afternoon to you too, Chris,” she said. “Yeah, my neck is fine from that nut's attempt to strangle me last night and the bruise on my forehead is healing nicely. How are you?”
“Damn it, Storm!” Frost huffed. “So the guy attacked you and you acted in self-defense. I’m glad you weren’t seriously hurt and he didn’t get away. That still doesn’t explain how my suspect ended up face up in the middle of the street instead of in a holding cell awaiting arraignment!”
“Simple, Chris, that’s where he landed,” Raven replied. “Look, he attacked me, we fought, and he fell off the balcony. What did you want me to do, jump off with him and cushion his fall? It isn’t like I kicked him off the ledge on purpose. If I was going to assassinate him, I would have done it from across the street.”
Frost shook his head and spread his hands. “Raven, you have to see how this looks,” he said in calmer tones. “The Lakeside Strangler kills one of your friends…you go to arrest him and he ends up dead, and painfully so. Even for you it looks intentional. The press will have a police brutality field day with this. You weren’t even supposed to be on the case after your friend was killed! You were too close to this one!”
“Tough!” Raven stood and looked the lieutenant in the eye. “It was my case. My snitch came up with a useful piece of information and the lead panned out. I attempted the arrest and the perp resisted. End of story.”
Frost stared at Raven for a few heartbeats before nodding and slipping off her desk. “If that’s how it's going to go down in your report, so be it. I want it on my desk in the morning; I have a meeting with the mayor about the case and a press conference afterwards. Lucky me.”
“Sorry,” Raven muttered, watching Frost leave. When he had slammed the door to his office, she dropped into her desk chair and began sifting through her messages. Her mother had called three times already to remind her about the evening’s party. She hated those. Nothing but vampire politics, kowtowing and blood play. Ick.
She was almost down to the usual requests for press quotes and sound bites about her cases when Frost returned and dropped a sheet of paper on her desk.
“You've got a new case,” he said. “A uniform found a strange stiff, Dearborn Street.”
Raven glanced at the sheet, which provided almost no information. Just a name and an address uptown.
“What exactly does ‘strange’ mean?” She folded the sheet and slipped it in her purse.
Frost shrugged. “How should I know? It’s yours. Levac will have the assist.”
Raven frowned and leaned back in her chair. “I usually get Stiles, and I’m supposed to have a week off!”
“Stiles is still in the hospital after your last ‘hunch’.” Frost turned his back and walked back to his office, his shoulders hunched. “You go through partners like some guys go through coffee cups. Levac is your man. He’ll meet you at the scene. And until Stiles gets back, you can forget your vacation. I need all hands on deck; this city is getting crazier by the minute.”
“Swell,” Raven muttered to Frost’s retreating back. “So much for working on my tan.”
II
Night fell across the Windy City, bringing with it a cool autumn breeze that blew in from the west, carrying the scent of smoke and salt. Dark grey clouds hovered on the horizon, harbingers of a storm to come. Raven’s Shelby growled through the city streets and she watched the buildings pass with a light smile on her face.
Raven loved the city. She had been born and raised here and spent her youth wandering its darkened streets and misty alleyways. The traditional horrors of being robbed, beaten, or raped that many young women might have felt were not something she had ever considered. The city held little fear for the child of
a policeman and the daughter of the Mistress of the City. She had gone where she pleased and had gained more of an education than the best private schools could ever have provided. Because of that, the darkness and the city always made her feel safe.
She arrived at the address indicated on her case sheet in just under twenty minutes; the building, an art-deco high rise, was popular among a certain type of young, ultra-rich executive. The waiting list just for a small studio apartment was rumored to be three years long; the penthouse was booked for at least the next decade.
A group of uniformed officers had blocked off the parking garage with yellow police tape, which two of them held aside for Raven’s Shelby. Most everyone on the force had heard of her and her obsession with the classic muscle car and recognized it on sight.
Raven guided the car through the garage to the bottommost level, where a group of officers were standing around a blue, late model, BMW X6 Crossover. The small SUV was parked near the garage wall; judging by the layer of dust on the windshield, the car had been there for a few weeks.
Having already spotted Detective Levac sipping from a Starbucks cup and chatting with a cute uniform, Raven parked the Shelby in the opposite lane and climbed from behind the wheel. She grabbed her kit from the trunk and joined the gaggle of officers hovering around the BMW.
Levac wasn't exactly a normal detective. He was known as “Codumbo” to many of the squad, a play on the famous television detective Columbo. As usual, he looked like he had neither showered nor shaved in days. He had stubble you could light matches on, his rumpled suit had been slept in, and pieces of pickle and a stream of ketchup streaked down his tie.
“Hi, Rupert, good to see you again,” Raven said pleasantly.
Levac turned and smiled, spilling coffee down his pants from the overflowing cup.
“Hey, Raven!” He extended a hand. “Frost told me we’d be working this case together. It’s about time; I think we can make a great team and I’m looking forward to being your bottom…um, partner…you know what I mean!”
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