Deadly Storm

by Skye Knizley

  The Jaguar suddenly leapt sideways and the passenger side crumpled before the vehicle rolled onto its side. Raven was tossed around the cabin like a bobblehead before coming to rest on the ceiling with one leg pinned beneath the steering wheel. She shook her head trying to clear the cobwebs and saw a massive blade cutting through the side of the vehicle. Sparks fell on her face, burning her skin and making marks in her clothes as the blade sliced through the SUV like an electric knife through holiday turkey.

  Raven jerked on her leg, trying to free it before the blade cut through her skin. With some effort she yanked the steering wheel free and rolled out of the shattered sunroof a moment before the blade cut the Jaguar in half. When she looked up it was to see the hooded face of a massive demon, one she’d seen years before. It stood sixteen feet tall, with charred skin, melted eye-sockets and a torso covered by nails and hooks that wept yellow ichor. In its hand was a sword the size of a telephone pole with a jagged edge and haft made of human skull.

  “Didn’t I send your ass back to hell?” she asked, drawing her pistol.

  The demon’s response was to grab what was left of the Jag and toss it aside like a child’s toy. It stepped through the gap and raised its blackened sword over its head. Raven rolled out of the way and fired three shots into the thing’s ruined face. The bullets passed through as if it was made of smoke and vanished into the sky.

  “Shit, I forgot that part,” she muttered.

  The demon swung his sword again and she leapt over it in a somersault that put her weapon in line with its torso. She fired again, knowing it was useless, and started to run. It took cold iron to kill the thing, preferably attached to a summoning circle to send it back wherever it came from. She was in short supply of both.

  The snow was slick beneath her boots and several times she almost fell as she made her way down West 13th Street. She could feel the demon coming closer, running on its tree-trunk legs and glanced back just as it swung the massive sword. She hit the pavement and slid, letting the snow and ice carry her beneath the blade to safety. When she stopped sliding she fired into the blade at point blank range, hoping to damage it or make the demon drop the weapon, to no avail. It wrenched the blade out of the pavement and swung again, causing Raven to roll aside again.

  “You really should just go home,” she said, ejecting the magazine. “You can’t hit me, I can’t kill you, it’s going to be a long night. Why don’t you piss off and we can both get some sleep, yeah?”

  The demon snorted and wiped pavement off his blade before raising it over his head and letting out a roar that shook nearby buildings.

  “Guessing that’s a no.” Raven climbed to her feet and started running again, thinking furiously. She had cold iron bullets, but they were in the Shelby at the manor. She would need something else to kill this thing with, and she would need it before she got tired or made a mistake.

  She dodged another blow that would have taken her head off and turned down Oakley Avenue, where several cars were parked in the snow. No…not parked. There’d been a minor accident and the police hadn’t yet cleared it. There were no drivers or passengers, it looked as if they’d been taken to safety by police or emergency crews, but their cars still choked the narrow street.

  Raven leapt onto the back of an SUV and crossed onto the back of a delivery truck a scant few feet ahead of the rampaging demon. Two blocks away sat the cause of the accident, a nitrogen delivery truck was stuck on the slight rise at the next intersection and several cars had slid into it. The driver was standing outside smoking a cigarette, likely waiting for an emergency tow. Liquid nitrogen was too dangerous to leave unattended.

  Raven dropped down from the delivery truck just as the demon cut it in half. She tucked, rolled and came up running again. The moment she gained her feet she ejected the spent magazine and loaded another.

  Behind her, the demon was tossing stopped vehicles aside as he ran, cutting a swath with his sword wider than any snowplow. But his messy passage was slowing him down allowing Raven to put distance between them. In moments she slid to a halt beside the driver.

  “Hi, Agent Storm, FBI. Is this your truck?” she asked.

  The driver, an older man wearing a flannel shirt-jacket and a sleeveless down vest raised his cap to get a better look behind him.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “A bad thing that wants to kill me. Focus, is this your truck?” she asked again.

  He looked at her. “Yeah, yeah its mine, why?”

  The tanker was almost new, with polished sides emblazoned with the name Acme Chemical Company. Raven was no judge, but she was willing to bet it was almost full. It was going to be heavy.

  “Great! Listen, it’s going to have an accident.”

  She looked back at the approaching demon, then at the driver. “You should run.”

  The driver’s eyes widened as the demon came closer. “You could be right, but I’ve never left a damsel in distress before. Maybe we should both−”

  When Raven met his eyes, her power was glowing in her eyes and he backed up a step.

  “I’m not a damsel. Run!”

  She pushed him away and waited until he was across the intersection before ripping the tanker free of the tractor’s fifth wheel. It was heavy, possibly the heaviest thing she’d ever tried to lift. Her muscles groaned under the weight and she felt her strength fading with every heartbeat, but she couldn’t stop. Demons hated the cold more than anything, with any luck this much cold would kill it or at least send its frozen butt back to the pit, either would do.

  She grunted and stepped sideways, sinking into the snow and pavement as she man-handled the payload. When the demon was close enough, she tossed the front of the trailer into his path and drew her pistol. With shaking, aching arms she raised the weapon and fired hole after hole into the tanker’s first panel, sending nitrogen spilling into the air. Most of it evaporated, but enough made ice on the pavement that the demon couldn’t stop. He slid and spun like a cartoon creature on a skating ring before crashing into the tanker at full speed. It rolled and exploded in a shower of pressurized liquid that bathed the demon in ice. In moments it was frozen solid, unable to move.

  “Merry Christmas, you bastard,” Raven muttered. She fired the last round from her pistol and watched the demon crumble into pieces that vanished with little flashes of flame as they hit the ground.

  She pitched backward into the snow, her strength spent. She was tired, so tired, and not just from using her strength. The universe seemed determined to kill her, why not let it? How many times could she save the city, anyway?

  “As many as it takes, kiddo,” Mason Storm said, stepping out of the shadows. “Nice work with the Behemoth.”

  Raven raised her head and saw him walking toward her. He was dressed in his black longcoat, trademark red sweater and black leather pants tucked into boots. His hands were tucked into his pockets and smoke from his cigar drooled from his nose, a habit he’d been unable to break in her lifetime.

  “Dad?”

  He sank down beside her. “In the flesh, kid. You alright?”

  Raven glared, wishing the pain in her head would go away. “You’ve avoided talking to me for years and you show up now?”

  Mason shrugged. “Timing was never my strong suit. Ask Grendel. You didn’t answer my question, you okay?”

  Raven sank back again. “I just moved a tanker truck by hand. No, I’m not alright, especially since I’m hallucinating you.”

  Storm took the cigar out of his mouth. “How do you know you’re hallucinating?”

  Raven didn’t open her eyes. “Dad’s cigars always stank. Yours don’t, ergo you aren’t real, you’re my subconscious trying to keep me alive.”

  She paused. “Thanks, subconscious. You couldn’t let me hallucinate Aspen and a beach somewhere?”

  Mason shook his head. “That wouldn’t keep
you alive. You’d embrace it and fall into the abyss.”

  “My subconscious is getting way too invasive,” Raven replied.

  “So I’m not here in the flesh, I’m still here, kiddo. A version of me, anyway. Come on, get up, you’re going to freeze to death,” Mason said.

  Raven ignored him. He wasn’t real and she was just too damn tired. The snow was pretty comfortable once you got past the cold, and it was helping the ache from her tortured muscles. The freezer hadn’t been so bad, really it was a win-win.

  “You’re a fighter, Raven,” Mason said. “This isn’t like you.”

  “Maybe it’s who I am now,” Raven said. “Go away.”

  “It isn’t, Raven. Never has been, never will be. It’s why you’re hallucinating me in the first place. You needed someone who could snap you out of it,” Mason said.

  Raven opened her eyes. “You?”

  Mason faded away to be replaced by Aspen. She was holding a bag of Claret in each hand.

  “Of course me,” Aspen said. “Come on, don’t do this to me, honey.”

  Raven felt Aspen lift her head and tasted blood filling her mouth. She drank deep, letting the sweet Claret fill her, letting its mana flow through her veins and heal her wounds. She drained it in moments and sat up, not caring that blood was dripping down her lips.

  “How did you find me?” she asked.

  Aspen tore open the other container. “I’m your wife, Raven. I can find you anywhere. It didn’t hurt your dad was yelling in my ear, though.”

  Raven took the other bag and drank half before what Aspen had said registered. “What?”

  “He called, said he knew you were in trouble,” Aspen said. “He told me where to look.”

  Raven finished the blood and stuck the bag in her pocket. “He was a hallucination.”

  Aspen held up her phone showing she’d recently had a call from Mason Storm. “I didn’t hallucinate him, honey. He called and was worried about you.”

  She looked at the carnage behind them, taking in the destroyed tanker trailer, the small fires and the swath of destruction left by the demon. “What happened, anyway?”

  “Someone sent a Behemoth after me,” Raven said, pulling herself to her feet.

  Aspen blinked in surprise. “Like the one Xavier and Riscassi sent?”

  “The same.”

  Raven took a handful of slow steps toward Aspen’s Jeep parked just beyond the explosion. She paused, looking at the wreckage. The last time she’d seen one of those things, it had involved Aspen’s magik, Xavier had used her to cast the final spell. Not many mages could rip the fabric between this universe and hell, Aspen was one of perhaps a dozen.

  Aspen took her arm. “Lean on me, honey, I’ll get you home and call King to send a team out.”

  Raven pushed her away. “The Behemoth.”

  “What are you doing?” Aspen asked. “Honey you need help, you’re weak from the fight.”

  Raven didn’t want to believe it, but it fit. Aspen had worked with Xavier and the Riscassi clan before, now she’d been in the thick of it again, arresting the Thirst manufacturers in one easy move. Had she been played this entire time? Was Aspen working with them?

  “Did you summon the Behemoth?” Raven asked.

  Aspen’s jaw fell open and the hurt was evident in her eyes. “Of course not, Raven. Why would I summon a demon to kill you? You’re my wife.”

  Raven staggered away, sliding on the ice and snow. “Am I? How can I know? You show up just when everything is going to shit to save me at the nick of time? Coincidence?”

  “Destiny,” Aspen said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Raven, don’t do this, it’s not me. I was at District One booking the Thirst suspects, you can call Mauser and ask, he’s still there.”

  “I’ve seen your magik, Aspen. You could make him believe whatever you want him to,” Raven said.

  Aspen followed her. “You have to trust me, Raven. This is a symptom of PTSD, you’re being paranoid, baby. Let me get you home, get you warm.”

  Raven closed her eyes. She knew, she knew that Aspen loved her. She’d sensed it, felt it in the middle of the night. She’d tasted true love’s kiss, it had brought her back from the dead when nothing else could. She’d fought beside this woman and she trusted her more than anyone in the world. But the doubt was there, gnawing at her insides like a festering disease.

  Her head ached and she was so, so tired. She just wanted it to be over, wanted to rest and not feel these unfamiliar emotions. She wasn’t good at fear and doubt, they were things she kept locked tightly away.

  She swallowed them, push them away and opened her eyes. “Take me home.”

  Aspen sank down beside Raven and wrapped her up in her arms “It’s going to be okay, honey, I promise.”

  Raven huddled against her and began to cry. Aspen kissed her head softly and wiped the tears away with her fingers.

  “I’m here, Raven. And I’m never letting you go,” she said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  343 Wolf Point, Chicago, IL, 3:14 a.m., December 24th

  The nightmare was different. The cold was still there, the omnipresent oppression of the freezer, the dark, it was all still there at the edge of her senses. But there was something else. A presence within the dream that didn’t belong.

  “I’m here, honey,” Aspen said beside her.

  Raven turned her head and smiled. Aspen lay beside her wrapped in her blue parka and purple stocking cap. “I didn’t expect you to be in my nightmare.”

  “I told you I was never letting go,” Aspen said as her face began to melt and burn. “Your heart is mine forever!”

  Her scream choked in her throat and Raven sat up, drenched with sweat, shaking and disoriented. She was home, Aspen had brought her home, they’d taken a shower, eaten and gone to bed wrapped in each others arms. She knew it, remembered it, but the dream felt so real, like a half-remembered memory from long ago.

  “I’m here, lover,” Aspen said. “What do you need?”

  Raven slipped out of bed and pulled a thin robe over her bare torso. “Coffee. Go back to sleep, Asp.”

  She closed the door behind her and stepped into the living room. The tree was still plugged in and the soft glow of the lights made her feel better. The joy she felt at having her first real tree decorated like normal people chased away the last vestiges of fear and she sat down beside the sweet-smelling pine, forcing herself to relax.

  Aspen was right, the dreams were getting worse. So were the symptoms. She didn’t want to believe she had post traumatic stress, that was for heroes, for soldiers and emergency responders, not vampires.

  “You’re only half vampire,” Aspen said, sitting beside her. “And, unlike most, you’ve got actual feelings. You’re mostly human, Ray. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  Raven looked at their reflection in the window. They were the perfect couple, red hair mingling with purple, green eyes melting into blue. They should have been smiling, not worrying about this shit.

  “Am I?” Raven asked. “I’m not so sure.”

  Aspen kissed her cheek. “I’ve never been more sure of anything, honey. Know how I know?”

  “How?” Raven asked.

  “Monsters don’t have nightmares. Xavier never once worried that he’d done the wrong thing, never once cared what happened to me or anyone else he hurt,” Aspen said. “You care about everyone, maybe a little too much.”

  Raven kissed her forehead. “What would I do without you?”

  Aspen smiled and looked impish. “Crash, burn and drown your sorrows in tequila and disco music. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “Disco music, huh?”

  “Call it what you want, it’s my vision of hell,” Aspen said.

  Raven stood and walked to the kitchen. “Even the Bee Gees?”

  Aspen wrapped he
r arms around her knees and rested her chin on her arms. “Especially them. White leisure suits and falsetto voices are definitely the second layer of hell.”

  Coffee pods and fresh water went into the coffee machine and Raven leaned against the counter to wait for a fresh cup. “Then I certainly can’t let you go.”

  “Are you sure you want coffee at this hour?” Aspen asked.

  She stood and moved to the counter opposite Raven with a sexy smile and extra sway in her hips. “I could probably do a little something to help you sleep.”

  “I got some rest,” Raven replied. “And I’ve got to call Mom and tell her about ‘Dora, then I have some research to do in the House archives. There aren’t many casters in the area who could summon that demon thing. With Arden in jail and the Thirst ring shut down, at least temporarily, it might be our only remaining lead. By the way, how did it go at District One?”

  Aspen frowned at the change of subject. “Not bad. I got the whole crew booked, even the ones that had to go to St. Mary’s. Fish is in holding all by his lonesome, Mauser is hoping he’ll roll on Damian and we can lock the whole thing down for good.”

  “You didn’t let Mauser take any credit, did you? That was a solo collar,” Raven said.

  “He tried to horn in on the action, but I shot him down. It helped that Murt was there to run interference,” Aspen said.

  Raven nodded, watching the dark, rich coffee fill her favorite mug. When it was finished, she sprinkled cinnamon across the top and took a sip before turning back around.

  “It was a good collar, honey. I’m proud of you.”

  “Thank you,” Aspen said. She cocked her head and traced a finger on the back of Raven’s hand. “What’s the next move?”

  “Hell if I know,” Raven said. “Arden isn’t talking, she’s the prime suspect, but I know there is at least one more witch out there.”

  Her phone began to vibrate insistently and she looked at it in surprise. Who the hell would call at three in the morning?

  She slid her thumb across the screen. “Storm.”

  “Agent Storm? Its Corporal Dalton, we’ve got a situation at the Pit.”