Stormrise

by Knizley, Skye

  “He has nothing to say!” Wall again interjected, his angry voice echoing in the tiny room.

  “He most certainly does,” Raven said, casting Wall a withering glance. “Look how concerned he is. Innocent people don’t squirm so much they wet themselves.”

  She looked back at the suspect and said, “Come on, Brand, I know you tried to make Nathan and Victoria sick…what else happened? What did you do?”

  “Nothing!” Brand yelled, cracking under Raven’s gaze. “Yes, when I found out the reason Victoria wouldn’t see me anymore was because of Nathan, I went nuts. Nathan and I fought and when he wouldn’t back down I tried to make them both sick whenever they were together. It didn’t work! They just kept seeing each other!”

  Attorney Wall clamped a hand on Brand’s shoulder. “Be quiet, Brand, you’ve said enough! I’ll handle this for you!”

  “What else did you do, Brand?” Raven asked, not even acknowledging that Wall had spoken. “What happened when you saw that your plan hadn’t worked?”

  “He sought more agreeable companionship,” Wall said with a glare at his client. “He never saw Ms. Laveau or Mr. King after their afternoon on the Witchcraft.”

  Raven continued to pay no attention to Wall, staring instead at Brand Symone. “Tell me the truth, Brand. What took place? You tried to literally make them sick of one another. When that didn’t work, what did you do?”

  “Detective, I answered your question; you are out of line,” Wall growled. “Move on to something else or this interview is over.”

  Raven glanced at Wall and took her seat. “You answered my question, counselor; I'm just not sure it was the truth.” Raven folded her arms and gazed at Brand, letting her power flow into her eyes. “Mr. Symone, can you tell me where you were on the night King was killed?”

  “He was at home with his new girlfriend, Alyssa,” Wall said.

  Raven arched an eyebrow and looked at Wall with mock surprise, hoping to bait him into giving an exact time of death. “Oh? How can you be so sure? How do you know when King was killed? The information hasn’t been released to the public. Even the pathologist can only give me his best guess. Are you psychic, counselor?"

  Caught with his pants down, Wall paused to think and Raven looked back at Symone, breathing deeply as she did so. She could still smell his fear and uncertainty; he was sweating profusely and fidgeting in his chair. “Why are you so nervous, Mr. Symone?” Raven asked in a quiet voice.

  “Nervous? I’m not nervous.” Brand wiped a shaking hand across his brow.

  “Really?” Raven asked in the same quiet voice. “You’re shaking and I know you dribbled in your shorts when I came in. Your heart is pounding a mile a minute. Tell me what happened to Nathan King and Victoria Laveau.”

  “I don’t know!” Symone cried, drowning out his attorney’s objection. “I swear I don’t know. Victoria told me we were through and she was going away with Nathan and that was the last I heard until a friend told me she and Nathan were both dead.”

  “What friend?”

  “Taylor, a mutual friend from Club Purgatory,” Symone replied. “She called a few days ago to say they had both been found dead. I swear I didn’t hurt either of them. Yes, I tried to make them sick and split them up; I didn’t know what else to do! But I didn’t kill them! I loved Vicki! I would never have harmed her!”

  With his outburst over, Brand broke into tears, holding his face in his hands.

  “I think my client has said enough,” Wall said shortly. “Are you going to release him or shall I file a complaint?”

  “He still hasn’t said how you knew when King had been killed,” Raven said, matching Wall’s glare.

  “Ask Taylor at Club Purgatory,” Wall replied.

  Raven nodded and closed her file. “Does this Taylor have a last name?”

  “I’m sure she does, but I don’t know it,” Symone replied between sobs. “She’s a dancer at the club; I’m sure you can find her there.”

  “Thank you for your cooperation,” Raven said. “My captain will be in to see you in a moment.”

  She stood and knocked on the door, stepping through when the patrolman on the other side opened it for her. She walked to the adjoining room where Frost, Levac, and the technician were waiting for her.

  Frost looked up when she entered, his dark eyes meeting hers. “What do you think?”

  Raven nodded her head towards the mirror behind the small group, where the smoked glass showed Wall talking with Symone, their heads close together.

  “He’s our one and only suspect at the moment,” Raven replied, “but I think he’s telling the truth. I don’t think he had anything to do with the murders.”

  “How can you tell?” Levac glanced back through the glass at the crying man.

  Raven smiled. “Call it women’s intuition or whatever you like, but it smells like the truth. I don’t think he’s the one we’re looking for.”

  “What do you want to do?” Frost asked.

  Levac shrugged. “We can hold him for forty-eight hours. I think we should keep him while we look for this Taylor person. Let him sweat for a while and see if he comes up with anything else he’d like to share with us.”

  “Agreed,” Raven said. “Let’s hold him in case Taylor turns out to be a wild goose chase.”

  Frost nodded and stood. “I’ll set it up. Wall isn’t going to be happy.”

  “He’s already not happy,” Raven said with a laugh. “He’s never happy unless he’s getting some psycho killer off on a technicality or slapping his wife around.”

  Levac stood and slipped into his burger-smelling jacket. “Which makes me wonder again what this guy is doing defending a member of one of Chicago’s most upstanding families.”

  “Maybe we’ll find out if we keep digging,” Raven said. “Come on, partner; let’s go dancing.”

  “I thought you’d never ask."

  VII

  The squall had passed, leaving behind a bitterly cold wind that belied a traditional Chicago autumn and hinted at the icy winter ahead. It blew a handful of leaves across the frozen street and caused the sign above Club Purgatory to rattle ominously. Levac turned up the collar of his beige trench coat as protection against the chill and moved to stand in line with the other hopefuls waiting to enter the club. Raven stared at him for a moment before grabbing his arm and dragging him behind her to the head of the line.

  “Hey!” he objected. “Shouldn’t we be polite and wait our turn?”

  “No,” Raven replied, pulling out her credentials. “This isn’t a social call; we’re police officers conducting an investigation. Would you wait to go anywhere else? Of course not. It’s just a stupid club, regardless of what the papers say. Reach down and find a pair!”

  She stopped before the bouncer, a vampire dressed in a wet tank top, leather pants and boots. He stood there, impervious to the icy weather, and stared at the two detectives with a blank face.

  “Detectives Storm and Levac,” Raven said. “We have business inside.”

  “So does everyone else in line,” the bouncer replied, his voice higher pitched than Raven would have expected in a man so muscle-bound. “Wait your turn.”

  Raven sighed and let go of Levac’s arm, wondering if the club was purposely hiring bouncers who didn’t know her just to piss her off. “Do we really have to go through this?”

  “The rules say everyone waits,” the bouncer replied, flexing his muscles and flashing a hint of fang. “That means even you, copper.”

  “Come on, Storm.” Levac plucked at Raven’s sleeve. “I don’t want to shoot anyone tonight. Or worse, get beaten to death or shot myself.”

  “Who said anything about shooting anyone?” Raven asked with surprise.

  Not bothering to wait for an answer, Raven reached out and grabbed the bouncer’s ear. Ignoring his flabbergasted howl and pulling him close, she whispered, “You are keeping Fürstin Ravenel Tempeste and her guest standing in the rain while you play bad-ass vampire. Let u
s in before I tear off your head and use it for a bowling ball!”

  She then let go of the vampire’s ear and stepped back, her hand hovering near her holstered Automag in case the vampire decided to act as stupid as he looked.

  The vampire glared at the two of them for a moment before turning and opening the sliding door for them. Raven resisted the urge to pat the vampire on the head and instead guided Levac through the coat check area and into the club proper.

  Like most nights, the dance floor was packed tight, with narrow gaps to allow foot traffic to reach the dance cages, bar, and mosh pit near the stage. Raven stood on her toes to see over the crowd, searching for the bartender she had spoken to before or anyone else who looked friendly-ish. She spotted Pashta serving drinks to a group of biker-looking lycans near the stage and started toward her. Before she could move more than a step, Levac grabbed her arm. “Wait…Storm, what did you say to that bouncer to get us through the doors?”

  Raven glanced at his hand then back at his eyes, the look on her face causing him to retract his hand and hold it up in mock surrender.

  “What? I just told him we were working on a case and unless he wanted to be held for obstruction he had to let us in,” Raven lied.

  “You had to whisper that?” Levac asked, following Raven through the crowd. “Why not just spit it out?”

  Raven glanced back. “It’s more menacing if I whisper. I have very scary breath.”

  The two detectives fought their way through the crowd and caught up with Pashta, who was dressed in white vinyl pants and a matching silk blouse that contrasted with her dark skin. She smiled when she saw Raven, barely noticing Levac at her elbow.

  “Good evening, Miss Raven,” the bartender said, avoiding the use of Raven’s underworld title in front of Levac.

  “Hi, Pashta, nice to see you again,” Raven replied. “Got a second for us? I had a few more questions about that case I was working on.”

  “Of course,” Pashta replied. “I was about to end my shift and head home; come on, you can join me in the back.”

  Raven nodded and she and Levac followed Pashta as she weaved through the gyrating club goers. She unlocked a door behind the bar and motioned for the detectives to enter. When they were through, she closed the door and led her guests into a small back office.

  The office was decorated with whatever the owners had found in someone’s trash. A red leather sofa was pushed against one wall, opposite a trio of wicker chairs with blue cushions. A battered desk that was old during World War One was set in the middle of the room, along with a pair of mismatched dining chairs and a large overstuffed recliner that served as the desk chair.

  Raven looked around, working to keep the disgust off her face, then turned to Pashta, who had begun undressing. “This should only take a moment,” Raven said, using one hand to turn Levac toward the wall and away from the half-naked woman. “I was wondering if you know a woman named Taylor? She was a friend of Vicki Laveau.”

  Pashta nodded and knelt to sort through a gym bag that had been stashed behind the sofa. She pulled out jeans, a blue tee shirt and a pair of comfortable-looking suede boots and started to dress before replying. “Taylor Hellsey? Yes, I know her. She’s a pole dancer. I haven’t seen her for a couple days, though. I think she and Vicki were pretty tight; they spent a lot of time dancing together and they put on more of a show than most of the other dancers.”

  “Do you know where we might find her?” Levac asked, still studying the wall. “It could help move our investigation forward.”

  Pashta glanced at Levac’s back and smiled at Raven. “I’m not sure,” she said, straightening. “You can turn around now, detective.”

  Levac turned and returned Pashta’s smile. “Thank you. It’s a pleasure to see you fully dressed. Do you know anyone who might be able to direct us to Ms. Hellsey? Another friend, perhaps?”

  “I'm not really close with Taylor,” Pashta said, moving toward Levac. “I know she hangs out with a group of lycans from up north, those biker-looking guys I was serving earlier.”

  “Lycans? What’s a lycan?” Levac asked.

  “A gang,” Raven said before Pashta could respond. She exchanged a warning glance with Pashta, reminding her that Levac was not a preternatural or a groupie.

  Realizing her mistake, Pashta nodded and said, “Yeah, they have chapters all over. Our local one comes in once or twice a week when the live bands are playing. They have a thing for death metal.”

  Levac frowned. “How come I’ve never heard of these guys? I worked vice for three years!”

  “They aren’t that kind of gang,” Raven replied. “Pashta, you think these guys know Taylor well enough to give me an address or a place where we can find her?”

  Pashta nodded and said, “I believe so. Like I said, she hangs out with them on a regular basis.”

  Raven nodded and extended her hand. “Thank you, Pashta, I appreciate your help.”

  “You're welcome, Raven.” Pashta clasped Raven’s hand and stopped just short of using her full name.

  “Yes, thank you.” Levac held out one of his less-wrinkled business cards. “If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to call.”

  Pashta took the card and slipped it into her pocket with a smile. “I just might do that.”

  Back in the club proper, Raven and Levac forced their way through the crowd and approached the semi-circular table where the tough-looking bikers they had seen earlier were sitting. A young blonde girl was on the table, strutting around a brass pole and smiling seductively at the group surrounding her. The men in the pack were all but drooling over the attractive woman and Raven knew they were either considering infecting the girl…or eating her. The lycans who hung out at Club Purgatory were little more than animals in human form and wouldn’t hesitate to take the things they wanted. It was quite likely that was one of their human pets, or was a lycan herself, but she could always be a midnight snack.

  Raven flashed her badge at the leader of the group, a tall man with a mane of brown hair that flared out behind his head, a black biker jacket, and a pair of jeans with more holes than fabric. He looked like he belonged on stage with an eighties hair-metal band.

  “Detectives Storm and Levac,” she said, raising her voice above the din. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  The man leaned forward and favored Raven with a feral grin. “Not interested, de-tec-tives,” he barked. “We’re busy. Go bother someone else with your questions!”

  When he finished speaking, two of his pack stood and moved to block the detectives from the larger man’s view. Raven looked them both up and down and then turned to her partner.

  “Hey, Rupert, do you know the number to Northwestern Memorial Hospital?” she asked in a conversational tone.

  “Sure do, Raven,” he replied in the same tone. “Do you think we're going to need them?”

  “I do. Why don’t you go give them a call and have them send down their finest ambulance? Tell them there are two stupid-looking punks down here with multiple contusions, abrasions, and a variety of broken bones.” Raven returned her attention to the two thugs. She let her power flow into her eyes and smiled, holding each lycan’s gaze for several heartbeats. The two men returned to their seats. If they’d had tails they would have tucked them between their legs.

  “Good boys,” Raven moved past them to look down into the alpha’s face. “Like I said, I have a few questions for you.”

  The alpha werewolf looked up at Raven with annoyance and stood. At nearly seven feet tall, he now towered over her. She could smell the raw meat on his breath, a carrion stench that almost made her gag.

  “And I said I wasn’t interested,” the alpha growled. “Go away or the boys and I are going to throw a bash with you as the party favor!”

  Raven rolled her eyes. “You need to brush your teeth. Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way…”

  A heartbeat later, she was lying flat on her back some ten feet awa
y. Her landing made the crowd disperse and brought the thudding music to a screeching halt.

  “I guess it’s going to be the hard way,” Raven muttered, wiping blood from her mouth. The alpha’s slap had left her ears ringing and split her lip, but otherwise only her pride was injured. She was regaining her feet when the alpha appeared in her vision.

  “Leave us alone,” he said, “or I’ll break your neck and use your skull for a cup!”

  Raven shook her head and straightened, facing down the much larger man. She was about to reply when Levac pressed his pistol to the side of the alpha’s head.

  “That’s my partner you slapped across the dance floor,” he said in a calm voice. “All we wanted was to ask you a few polite questions. Now you are under arrest for assaulting an officer. Want to try resisting arrest?”

  Raven watched as the rest of the pack stood, but otherwise did not move. The alpha was on his own unless he instructed them to intervene. Knowing he could do so at any moment, she stepped forward and looked into the lycan’s eyes.

  “We don’t want to kill you and you don’t want to be dead,” she said quietly. “Answer my questions and you get to walk out of here in one piece.”

  “I’m not afraid of your bullets,” the alpha grated, his hands twitching as he prepared to move.

  Raven drew her Automag is a blur of silk and stainless steel and pointed it at the alpha’s nose. “Maybe not my partner’s. But take a whiff of these. White oak, holy water, lead, silver, garlic and a partridge in a pear tree. They'll definitely do more than give you a headache.”

  The alpha’s nose flared and fear rose in his eyes. While Levac’s police-issue jacketed rounds would merely inconvenience him, her thirty carbine rounds would likely kill him and the rest of his pack.

  “All right,” he said at last. “I’ll answer your questions.”

  “Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head,” Levac ordered, using his free hand to pull his cuffs from his pocket, along with a shower of fast-food wrappers.

  The alpha complied, using one hand to motion his pack to take their seats. Levac quickly cuffed the man’s hands behind his back then helped him to stand. While Levac read the alpha his rights, Raven turned to the crowd, holding her badge over her head.