by Skye Knizley
Raven met Aspen’s eyes. “What kind of situation?”
“Two of our prisoners are missing and something is loose down there,” Dalton replied. “They…well, Agent Van Helsing is down, ma’am, and we can’t reach Agent King.”
“I’m on my way,” Raven said.
She tossed the phone aside and hurried to the closet, where she dressed in a simple outfit of black jeans and a blue tunic that hid her pistol at the small of her back. She slid her knives into her boots and pulled a jacket on as protection against the freezing night. Aspen met her at the door dressed in a black leather jacket, white tee shirt and leather pants. Her tactical belt hung around her hips and she was wearing a collection of charms.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Raven asked.
Aspen rolled her eyes. “Wherever you are.”
“Its too−”
“Dangerous?” Aspen said, cutting her off. “Yes, it is, and my wife is walking into it like she’s Super Woman. You’re not going alone.”
Her face softened. “Besides, you don’t have a car that can get through this mess. You need a driver.”
Raven gave up. “Fine. If there’s trouble, stay behind me.”
She opened the door and hurried to the stairs. The elevators were too slow and there might be people. She was in no mood to make small talk, it made her fangs itch.
FBI Building, Chicago, IL Dec 24th, 5:00 a.m.
“Where the hell is Rupe?” Raven growled. She’d tried his cell six times on the way over and gotten nothing but his usual voicemail. He’d probably turned it off so Sloan could get some rest, but it worried her. He usually picked up on the second ring.
“But you don’t usually call in the middle of the night,” Aspen said, guiding her Jeep into the rear lot of the FBI building. EMS vehicles were parked everywhere, along with local police who were controlling the scene and a firetruck that seemed to be there for no reason at all.
Raven showed her badge to the cop guarding the police tape and he held it out of the way, allowing them to park closer to the rear doors. The moment they were stopped she was out and hurrying for the doors.
She found Agent Branagh just outside the Section Thirteen office. He was a tall man with dusky skin, a neat beard and a mane of black hair that made him look a bit like Elvis. He was holding an axe-bladed combat shotgun and looked as if he’d looked into the fiery pit of hell itself. He was sitting at the top of the stairs, tired and broken.
“What’s happening, Marve?” Raven asked, helping him up.
Branagh looked at her with haunted eyes. “There’s something, something down there! It killed Van Helsing!”
Raven drew her weapon. “No, it didn’t, she’s almost as hard to kill as I am. Trust me on this. What about King?”
“He’s on his way, we sent a driver… Ray, most of S13, the night shift anyway, is dead. Me, you, Aspen, maybe a few others. Silver took everyone she could reach down there after… whatever it is,” Branagh said.
“Stay here and wait for King,” Raven said.
Branagh stood. “Where are you going?”
“Into the Pit. If nothing else, I have to find Silver,” Raven said.
Aspen drew her own weapon. “I’m right behind you.”
Raven looked at her, with her beautiful violet hair, piercing blue eyes and ready smile. She meant everything, more than family, more than duty, everything. The doubt was gone.
“You should stay here, wait for Rupe to join us, then come down,” Raven said.
Aspen looked into her eyes. “No, Raven. Someone has to watch your back.”
“I will do that,” King said behind her. “Agent Kincaid, I need you to check in with Agent Levac. He’s out of contact and cannot be reached. I’ve no one available to check on him and his wife.”
“You can’t reach Sloan either?” Raven asked.
King leaned on his cane and shook his head. “No. She is not picking up and I fear something has happened. I can feel it in these old bones.”
“Are you sure?” Aspen asked Raven.
Raven pulled her close and kissed her hard. When they were both gasping, she let go and smiled. “I got this, check on our family and keep them safe.”
Aspen wiped lipstick of Raven’s chin. “You better come back to me.”
“I will,” Raven replied.
She watched Aspen go and looked back at King. “You’re not going down there.”
He straightened with a crack of old bones and leaned his cane against the wall. “My family…my daughter is down there. I’m going.”
“I thought Silver was your niece.”
King shrugged and drew a revolver almost as old as he was from beneath his tweed jacket. “I lied. It was safer for both of us.”
He started down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. Raven caught up and took his elbow.
“Wait a minute, you’re−?”
“You’re wasting time we don’t have, Raven,” King snapped.
He was right, questions could wait. Whatever was down in the Pit, it was dangerous and had killed at least three agents, maybe more. Anything that could take a Van Helsing out of the game was a force to be reckoned with.
They reached the bottom of the stairs and Raven used her security card to unlock the service elevator that ran all the way to the heart of the Pit. Blood was smeared on the walls and what looked like strips of human flesh hung from the ceiling, dripping bloody ichor.
“I hate it when they do that,” she said.
King entered and pressed the down button. “You get used to it after a few hundred years.”
The elevator descended slowly, it was made for heavy cargos, not speed. With each floor came a thump that shook the car, as if something was hitting it from the outside as it passed. Raven didn’t want to think what might be waiting for them on the way back out. The primary threat was in the Pit, they could worry about secondary dangers when that was dealt with.
The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors rolled aside. The hallway beyond was a mess of blood, human flesh, torn body-parts and downed electrical cables that spat and sputtered in the wet, viscous blood.
King stepped into the corridor with his weapon at the read. “Come, it is this way.”
Raven followed, her own pistol tight in her hand. “How do you know?”
“Experience. Keep that cannon ready, I don’t know what we’re dealing with, but the specials will kill almost anything,” King said.
Raven followed him through the maze of corridors, occasionally glancing at the cells they passed. The worst preternaturals, the ones not killed outright, were housed down here before being moved to New York. The cell doors were made of steel, with small windows for feeding and observation. Some of the doors had been ripped off the hinges, others left alone. The remains of primal lycans, a pair of feral naga and a selkie with a taste for human flesh all lay in their cells, nearly ripped apart from whatever had been unleashed.
“What could do this?” Raven asked, shining her phone’s light on the selkie’s corpse. Most selkies, also known as wereseals, were harmless. They had a childlike demeanor and were as playful as a toddler with a favorite toy. Raven had met a few and was surprised by the joy they seemed to get just by meeting new people. The one in this cell had been named Patience, a man-eating killer with a sweet smile and elven good looks that she’d used to get close to her next meal. Jynx and Piper had brought her in and she’d been kept down here ever since. Whatever had killed her had ripped her pelt off and beaten her to death against the concrete walls of her cell.
“Nothing we keep down here,” King said. “Anything this dangerous is put down or added to the payroll.”
Raven looked at him. “Would you have tried to put me or Aspen down here if we hadn’t joined up?”
King snorted. “Of course not, you’re mostly human,
you’re no threat to the average citizen. Come on, I smell Silver’s perfume, she can’t be far.”
They passed through an intersection where the four underground cell blocks met and Raven stopped to get her bearings. Like the rest of the underground prison, the junction showed signs of battle, including smeared blood, bullet holes and places where the wall had been gouged with something sharp and heavy. Raven touched one of the gouges and her eyes widened.
“I know what it is, I fought one last night,” she said.
King looked at her then went back to sniffing the hallways. “How would a Behemoth get down here?”
“Where did you put Arden?” Raven asked.
King jerked his chin down the norther corridor. “Cell 327C, they’re designed for magicians and witches. Why?”
“Stay here,” Raven said.
She didn’t wait for an answer, she was halfway down the corridor before King had a chance to shout after her.
The cells in this section were more intact, which made sense, they were almost entirely empty. She found cellblock 327 and confirmed that cell C was empty, the door ripped off from the outside. She stepped into the cell, not surprised to find they were covered in the same sigils they’d seen at the coven and carved into Ash’s body. Hundreds of them carved into the wall with precision, almost as if a laser had been used. Of course, that was nonsense, but Raven had seen magik used with the same accuracy, like the beam of a superweapon narrowed down to a pencil thin beam of destruction.
In the center of the floor was a green-glowing circle surrounded by larger runes that Raven recognized as a mix of Fae and Elder Futhark. It looked like the same spell used to summon the first Behemoth she’d encountered years before, except for the glowing green circle that leaked hellish mist from somewhere in the depths of hell.
She was exiting the cell when she felt a tug on her connection with Aspen. She concentrated and heard the familiar thought-voice.
‘I’m at Levac’s. I found Sloan, she’s being taken to the hospital, but Rupe is missing,’ Aspen said.
‘How is Sloanie?’ Raven asked.
‘The baby is okay, Sloan’s banged up and says she killed two of them, but she’ll live,’ Aspen replied.
‘Killed two of who?’
‘Renegades. She thought they were after her and the baby, but it looks like they took Rupert. She tried to fight them...’
“God damnit!” Raven yelled.
‘It’s not her fault, we’ll find him. Can you get to the manor? Check in with Mom and Thad, maybe they have some idea what the hell is going on,’ she sent. They’ll keep you safe, she added to herself.
‘I’m already on my way, I sent a police detail with Sloan. Lee is in charge,’ Aspen replied.
She paused, and Raven felt a slight kiss on her cheek.
‘I love you, Ray, and I’m so sorry,’ Aspen said.
Raven closed her off and hurried down the corridor toward King, calling for Rupert as she ran.
‘Rupe? Come on, partner, answer me,’ she thought.
There was no answer, no sensation of connection, but that wasn’t unusual. They used their connection so rarely it came and went, especially if he was asleep. Or unconscious.
She reached the intersection and slowed. It was as before, save that King was nowhere to be seen. There was no evidence of a fight and she’d have heard something if there had been, which meant he’d probably just gone after Silver.
“Stubborn old man,” Raven muttered.
She concentrated on her senses, filtering out the blood, cordite and other smells of combat until she found his scent. It wasn’t an unpleasant odor, as older men went. A sort of leathery smell mixed with gun oil and old-fashioned shoe polish. He’d headed down the eastern corridor at a fast pace, but from the smell he’d been alone.
Raven followed, careful not to slip in any of the pools of blood or on any of the downed power cables. Something sure hadn’t liked light very much. Most of the lights, even the red emergency fixtures, were out.
After twenty paces, she switched to her vampire sight. The thermographic image of the hallway glowed to life and she could see there were several still-warm bodies in the corridor. Only one was moving and she knelt beside it, identifying it by scent. It was one of the Marines on guard duty. He was bleeding heavily, but still alive. Why had King walked right past?
“What’s your status, Marine?” Raven asked softly.
“My arm’s broken, ma’am, and I’m cut all over, lost a lot of blood,” the marine replied. His voice was weak, strained. Raven checked his pulse and found it thread. He was going to die, even if she got him to the emergency room right this moment he would likely die.
“Hang in there,” Raven said with all the confidence she could muster. “I’ll be back for you.”
She squeezed his hand and continued down the corridor. She hated leaving him, but she had a job to do and time was running out. If they’d taken Levac to the coven, she had to hurry and she had no time to spend on dying men. She’d apologize in the next life.
At the end of the corridor she reached a pair of doors that had been bashed open from this side. They led into the dining hall, ordinarily marines would escort prisoners to the hall one at a time, chain them in place and serve meals. Now, it was an unholy cathedral of pain. Vampires, lycans, fae and preternaturals that Raven couldn’t identify had been crucified to the walls. Their blood poured from terrible wounds in their torsos where it fell into drains intended for carrying water away during cleaning. Arden stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by the swirling blood. It had stained her clothes and smeared her face so badly she was almost unrecognizable.
Silver, her face bloody and her clothes torn, lay at Arden’s feet while King hung before her, held tight in the grip of a powerful holding spell.
“The legendary Abraham King, how far you have fallen,” she said.
“Not as far as you, Arden. Or should I say Ourania?” King’s voice sounded strong, but pained.
“That name has no meaning for me, Abraham,” Arden replied.
Raven shook her head. This had been the plan all along, no wonder she’d been so easy to arrest. Most preternatural suspects died because they refused to surrender, not because she wasn’t willing to arrest them. Arden had known she would be brought here, she’d planned for it. Why?
“It is who you are, Ourania. You have only forgotten,” King said. He was getting weaker, Raven could hear it in his voice. “You are one of the great muses, a fae of power and beauty.”
“Power?” Arden sneered. “Kow-towing to humans, inspiring them? That wasn’t power, it was slavery!”
She stepped closer and clenched her fist. The threads of magik tightened around King and he groaned in pain.
“This is power, Abraham. Lord Strohm released me from my bondage,” Arden said.
“And…made…you…his…slave…” King had to force every word, the magik was crushing his chest.
“I am no one’s slave, Abraham. Once we have the Vitae of the Familiars, Lord Strohm will have his strength back and then you will see true power,” Arden said in a low, dangerous voice. “He will lay waste to this city and take his place as king.”
Raven stepped into the room, weapon raised. “Not in my lifetime, witch. I’ve killed him twice now, he isn’t coming back. Put King down and I promise you’ll die quickly.”
“You. Why aren’t you dead?” Arden growled.
Raven shrugged. “I’m notoriously hard to kill. Put. Him. Down.”
Arden opened her mouth to respond and Raven pulled the trigger. The Automag’s report sounded like the hammer of a god when it fired. The new cold iron bullet flew straight and true, passing through Arden’s shield and exploding out the back of her skull in a spray of blood and brain. She dissolved into ash and sparks, freeing King, who collapsed to the floor in a heap, too exhausted
to stand.
“If you’re going to fight, fight. Don’t talk,” Raven said to the pile of ash.
“Well done, Agent Storm,” King gasped. “Well done.”
Raven bent to help him up and he waved her away. “I’m alright, help Silver.”
She helped him up anyway, then knelt beside Silver. The younger Van Helsing was pale and her breathing was shallow, but she was alive. Raven gathered her into her arms and started for the nearest exit, an emergency stairwell. She was almost to the door when a roar shook the room. A roar she’d heard too many times.
She kicked the door open and rushed King through.
“Get her out of here,” Raven said.
King took Silver as if she weighed nothing. “You can’t fight it alone.”
“It’s not the first time. Go, get to safety. No sense in all of us dying down here,” Raven said.
She slammed the door and turned. The Behemoth stood where Arden had fallen, staring at her ashes. He was smaller than the last one, wearing a leather harness and loincloth that were nailed to his body, a sack made of funeral cloth over his head and a massive axe in his hands.
Raven called upon her powers. She could feel them, the immortal and the vampire, ready and willing to fight.
“Feel lucky, punk?” she asked as the world went blue.
The Behemoth charged, crushing tables and benches beneath his feet. Raven waited until he was almost upon her before ducking and rolling aside. She brought her pistol up and fired, aiming for the creature’s massive head. The bullets punched straight through and ricocheted off the ceiling, but it slowed him down. She rolled away again and rose to her feet only a few steps ahead of him.
With him dogging her heels, she looked for a way to turn the tables. Her pistol was useless without cold iron slugs and there wasn’t any liquid nitrogen to be had sixty feet below the surface.
The far wall was coming up fast and the Behemoth was right behind her, less than a dozen paces. Raven leapt and pushed off the wall with her feet, using her momentum to spin her into a back-flip that put her behind the creature. She landed and fell to her knees while the demon crashed face-first into the steel-reinforced concrete.
