by Skye Knizley
Morgana pulled the knife from her leg and stood, her face lined with fury. “As you wish, dhampyr.”
They joined blades in a clash of steel that echoed from the walls. Each blow sent sparks flying into the walls and ceiling and left Raven’s arms thrumming with pain. Morgana was immensely strong, stronger than she looked. All around the room they fought, with Raven on the defensive, ducking blows, deflecting them and twice using the walls to leap out of the way.
Outside, the sky grew dark and thunder rolled, making Black Eon shudder.
“Do you hear that, dhampyr? The gates will open soon!”
“Not if I have anything to say about it!”
Raven attacked again, swung her blade in a figure eight configuration then spinning and ramming her elbow into Morgana’s face. She spun again and launched into a scissor kick that sent the tall woman into the wall behind her.
It’s the sword. Excalibur is powering the Hellgate, get the sword!
Raven didn’t have time to answer. Instantly Morgana was up and attacking again. Raven blocked an attack to her back then swung just in time to avoid a second attack to her face. With Excalibur in hand, Morgana was faster and stronger than any normal Fae.
Morgana’s next swing was a feint that left Raven unbalanced. In the split second of indecision, Morgana hit her with a beam of magik that sent her sprawling to the ground, body wracked with pain.
“You are beaten, Tempeste, the battle is over. I can feel the gate opening, surrender and your death will be swift and honorable. Resist and I will see your living brain submerged in acid while my hellspawn defile your body,” Morgana said.
Raven felt as if her insides were on fire. Pain crawled along every nerve, ever muscle and made her spasm. She spat a gobbet of blood and let her monster out, forcing some semblance of control on her body.
“You are one sick puppy, lady.”
She rose, hefting her blade. “That gate may open, but you won’t live to see it.”
Raven attacked, this time putting everything she had into the fight. Hrunting clanged and creaked with every swing and riposte, her arms shook and she felt like she was being shaken apart from the magik threading her bones, but she was damned if she was giving in. This was her city, her family and she was going to win or die trying.
Morgana gave way under the onslaught, Raven could see fear in her eyes as they crossed the room and started into the hallway. Their blades cut through bulkheads and railings as they fought, sending pieces of steel tumbling into the darkness below. Raven was beginning to think she had a chance, but her energy was beginning to fail. Between the magikal attacks and the injuries she’d sustained, she knew she couldn’t keep the frenetic pace much longer.
Suddenly, Morgana spun and twisted her blade around Raven’s. The move pulled Hrunting from her grasp and sent it spinning into the depths of the Hellgate forming below. Morgana smiled and crowed her victory. “Acid time, child.”
She swung her blade and Raven caught her hand. Morgana’s eyed widened in surprise and Raven smashed her head into Morgana’s breaking her nose and loosening her grip on Excalibur. Raven caught the tumbling blade and kicked Morgana over the railing where she fell screaming into the Hellgate.
Raven sank to the floor, spent. Excalibur felt heavy in her hand, too heavy to lift, and her eyelids were sagging shut.
Ray, you have to get up. We aren’t done yet, that gate is open, we have to destroy it.
Raven opened her eyes to see Aspen standing in front of her. She was beautiful, in leather pants, jacket and white tee, wearing her collection of amulets and pouches with her purple hair spilling over her shoulders.
I miss you, Aspen. I’m so sorry about all this. About duty and rules and the job… Raven said.
She pulled Aspen into her arms and kissed her, tenderly and with all the love she felt. If anyone in the world was her perfect partner, it as Aspen Kincaid.
Come on, baby, you’re asleep, we have to move!
Raven blinked awake and immediately wished she hadn’t. Though the magik had run its course, her body felt like someone had set her on fire and put her out with a dunk in acid. Blood stained her clothes and her hair was matted to the floor with her own mess. She pulled herself to her knees and looked down into the Hellgate. The very fires of Hades burned below, waiting to devour the city. With Morgana dead, it was running unchecked, unstoppable.
Raven looked at Excalibur, with its beautiful blade and engravings, and asked, “How do we turn it off?”
We don’t. We have to destroy it, but damned if I know how.
I do, Raven said.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Black Eon, Somewhere Over Lake Michigan
Raven slid Excalibur into the sheath on her back and hefted the satchel charge. It wasn’t C4, but she felt certain if she put it in the right place near the gas envelopes, Black Eon would go up like a Fourth of July display.
This is a really bad idea, Ray! Aspen said.
Raven ran down the companionway, her boots ringing hard on the steel grid work. Below she could see the hellish glow of Morgana’s spell, now raging out of control.
This thing is generating a Hellgate, Asp, you said it yourself. Remember the North Atlantic? This looks worse.
It is, I can feel it, but this is suicide!
I’ll have four minutes to get out of an escape hatch, no problem, Raven said.
And then fall over a thousand feet to the lake, did you think about that part?
Two SS troopers stepped into the companionway ahead. Raven didn’t slow. She leapt and pushed off the support structure with her right foot. Her left hit the first trooper and sent him tumbling over the rail screaming toward the distant Hellgate. She hit the other with the satchel charge. His helmet dented and she kicked him the face, sending him over the railing with his partner.
There’s a parachute in the hatch, it will be fine. Have a little backbone, babes, she said when she landed.
It isn’t faith in you I don’t have. It’s in Destiny. Destiny hates us, lover.
Raven looked up. The gas envelope was directly over her head. She gripped the structure and started climbing using the metalwork as foot and hand holds.
We make our own destiny, Asp, she grunted. That fate stuff is nonsense.
A maintenance ladder ran up the side of the envelope. Raven pulled herself up as far as she could reach then looked down. The Hellgate swirled less than fifty feet below, a fiery bit swarming with demons waiting for their chance to turn Chicago into a Hell on Earth.
She raised the charge and peeled the backing off the duct tape-like sticky on the back of the charge. She then pushed it against the gas envelope and opened the cover. Her heart sank, the impact with the trooper’s helmet had smashed the timer. It was stuck on sixty seconds.
Go get another one! Aspen yelled.
Raven looked back at the Hellgate. It was getting bigger and she could see creatures waiting on the other side, winged things with multiple arms and wild, insectile eyes.
There isn’t time, Aspen.
She pulled the cord and let go of the ladder. She fell to the deck and started running, unconsciously ticking off the seconds. More troopers appeared on the companionway and she drew Excalibur from over her shoulder. The sword felt light and comforting in her hand, like an old friend, which made what she was about to do seem much less frightening.
Oh, Goddess! Baby, you’re insane!
Raven hefted the sword. If you have a better idea I’m all ears!
No, but−
Raven vaulted the railing and fell toward the curving hull of Black Eon. She made a three point landing and started running as fast as her legs would carry her. She was exhausted, she could feel her body feeding on itself, but she kept pushing. Her destiny wasn’t to die on a damn Nazi Zeppelin in the wrong time. The Hellgate loomed above her, she could feel the heat
from the fires, hear the cries of anguish and the roars of the hungry creatures waiting for the portal to open.
“Not gonna happen,” Raven muttered. “Not in my lifetime.”
She slid to a halt beside the nearest rib, part of the support structure that formed the Zeppelin’s outer skin, which was made of fabric reinforced with metallic dope. From this point it should be a straight drop to the water.
What about a parachute?
No time!
Raven raised Excalibur over her head and brought it down into the skin. The blade slid through and she cut a wide swath, big enough to fit through. Above her, the satchel charge exploded, a low whump of noise followed by an explosion that made her eyes rattle in their sockets. She slipped through the skin and fell, Excalibur held tightly in her hands.
I love you, Raven, Aspen said.
Raven couldn’t answer. What was the point? It wasn’t Aspen, not really. The real Aspen would never hear her.
She doesn’t have to. She knows.
Raven looked at the water and tried to relax. It was like trying to stop a volcano with a box of baking soda. This was going to hurt.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Off the Shore of Outcast Isle, Lake Michigan, 1943
“We should go in,” Parker said. “The storm is getting worse.”
Mason Storm lit a cigar and glared at the soldier through the match. “Listen, Master Sergeant, my partner is out there. Your commander has ordered you to give me whatever assistance I require, and you’re going to assist me until I find her.”
“Sir, I’m not saying we give up, I saw what she did, she saved us all from that…thing. We all saw, but how are we going to find her in this pea soup?” Parker asked.
Storm turned back to the water. “I’ll find her. I know she’s out there, I can feel it.”
Come on kid, don’t let me down. Not you.
They searched for hours in the heart of the storm, rounding the island in ever widening circles. The sun was coming up, chasing the storm away with its orange and pink tendrils of hope, when Storm spotted Raven’s hair in the water. She was face down, not moving. Storm pulled her into the boat with the help of Sergeant Parker and immediately began CPR, forcing water out and air in.
“Come on, kid, breathe, dammit!” Storm roared.
Parker laid a hand on his shoulder. “She’s dead, sir. She’s been dead for hours. I’m so sorry, sir.”
Storm glared at him, his eyes flaming red. “You don’t know her, she isn’t dead. Give me your knife!”
Parker blanched. “My knife? Sir, your eyes…”
“Give me your Goddamn knife!”
Parker drew the blade from his waist and handed it to Storm, who cut his wrist and held the fountain of crimson to Raven’s lips. “Come on, girl, drink. You aren’t dead until I say so, and I didn’t say so. Your wife is waiting for you, your mom, me, drink, dammit!”
Raven remained limp and lifeless, unresponsive to the blood filling her mouth and nose. Storm felt tears behind his eyes and looked up at the sky.
“Don’t do this, please don’t do this. She’s a good kid, better than I ever was. I’m not going to ask you take me, I know better. Just give her back, you owe me!”
The sky remained impassive, and Storm bowed his head. For the first time in one hundred years, he wept.
EPILOGUE
343 Wolf Point, Chicago, IL, Present Day
The apartment was quiet, hushed. It felt cold to Aspen, who sat watching silver drops of rain run down the windows of the apartment she shared with Raven Storm. She’d taken Rupert home in the Shelby then parked it in Raven’s spot and come to bed. But sleep eluded her, like trying to catch smoke with a fishing net. She’d gotten up, made a pot of coffee and sat with the key in her hand, her thumb rubbing the numbers on the side over and over. They had to mean something, but what? Whatever the clue was, she knew it was meant for her.
The sun was coming up in the distance, a gold-pink glow behind the grey of the storm. She saw it behind the ‘43 Degrees’ sign of the bank down the street and something in her head clicked. She sat up and punched the numbers into her tablet.
An hour later she was behind the wheel of a Tempeste-owned speedboat with Levac beside her. She hadn’t even let him get changed, he was still wearing yellow and blue pajama pants with his suitcoat, tie and trademark beige trench. He was shaving his chin with an electric razor while chewing on a stale donut he’d grabbed on the way out.
“Are you sure about this, Asp?” he asked.
“Positive,” Aspen replied. “The coordinates are in the middle of Outcast Isle. It’s been off-limits since the 1940s, protected by Court and Section 13. Nobody goes there, not even college kids on a lark.”
Levac stopped his razor. “Asp…if Raven is there, she’s… I mean, we would know, right?”
“Maybe it’s just where she’s going to land. The key could open a portal or something else she needs to get home,” Aspen said.
Aspen turned her attention to the island ahead of them. It looked like something out of a cheesy horror movie, she expected lightning to flash behind the single structure that dominated the western side at any second. Mist clung to the forest and ruins, obscuring the heart of the island, while a barrier surrounded the entire thing save for a narrow jetty. An old, but well-kept and heavily armed PT boat was moored to the jetty and two men stood outside, M-16s at the ready. Aspen guided her black and red Scarab to the spot opposite the PT boat and Levac threw the waiting guard a rope.
The older of the men had a jagged scar on his chin and was pushing ninety if he was a day. His uniform sagged on his thin frame and his helmet looked like a reject from World War II, but his green eyes were clear and his lips were a thin line of determination. Pure stubbornness was keeping him alive.
“Are you Aspen Storm?” he asked.
Aspen stepped onto the jetty. It was slick with rain and ice, but she kept her balance.
“I am.”
“Master Sergeant Parker, at your service, ma’am. I knew your grandmother, she was a brave woman,” he said, extending a hand.
Aspen blinked. “Grandmother?”
Parker started down the jetty while his younger partner tied down the boat. “Reddest hair I ever saw. She’d like that violet mane of you’rne I’m sure. Yes sir, that woman took no shit from anyone. Madam LaVeau says you’re to have free run of the island, just be careful near the ruins. Some of the ground is none too stable.”
Aspen hurried after him. “Raven? You mean Raven, right? Bright red hair, tall, pale, mouth like a sailor when she’s angry?”
“O’course, that’s who I’m talking about. I assume that’s why you’re here, after all. Her tomb is on the island,” Parker replied.
Aspen felt tears spilling down her cheeks. “No…”
Levac put his hand on Aspen’s shoulder. She could tell he was crying, too. “How did she die?”
“That’s classified, junior,” Parker said.
Levac held up his badge. “Don’t let the pajamas fool you, Aspen and I have the highest clearance in the world. What happened?”
Parker pushed his helmet back and patted his pockets until he found a thin cigar. He stuck it in the corner of his mouth and started walking again. “Well then, it was the damndest thing you ever did see. A Zeppelin, the last as I recall, hovering right over Chicago with a circle of fire coming out of it. That postcard you see sometimes that’s supposed to be the Hindenburg? It wasn’t. Her name was Black Eon and your granny died saving the city from the weapon it carried.”
He took his helmet off and held it over his heart. “She blew it up with herself aboard. The news said she saved millions, at least they did until the Army showed up and put a lid on everything. Her partner, Mack fished her out of the lake and cried like a baby over her.”
Tears were running down Aspen’s face. She
felt as if her heart was breaking in her chest, as if her whole life had ended and there was nothing left. She looked at Levac, who wore an expression of pain and horror.
“Where is it? Where is the tomb?” he asked.
The ruins at the heart of the island had once consisted of a set of standing stones around a deep vault that descended beneath the earth. Aspen could tell by the way the stones were toppled and the vault door hung sideways that a powerful magikal force had ripped through the island destroying everything in its path. In the center of the clearing was a single stone with a plaque bolted to the front. A sword with a leather wrapped hilt and plain cross guard was thrust into the stone from above, as if a giant had forced it into place in a fit of anger. Though it was wet and rainy, the sword shown and glittered as if it had just been polished.
Aspen stepped into the clearing and knelt beside the stone. The plaque was old, made of brass that was tarnished by age. Six bolts big enough to restrain elephants held it in place against the stone, daring anyone to try and take it from its resting place.
“That is not dead which can eternal lie,” Aspen read.
“What the hell does that mean?” Levac asked, blowing his nose on his sleeve.
Aspen didn’t look up. “It’s a Lovecraft quote. Raven has almost all his books, she reads them when she’s depressed or it’s that time of the month.”
She ran her fingers across the plaque, scraping away tarnish and time. More letters rose to the surface, almost illegible. Aspen blew a handful of faerie dust across them and concentrated. In her mind’s eye she could almost see Mason Storm carving the letters by hand.
“In memorial of the Tempeste, she saved us all. If only she hadn’t hated the smell of blood so much, she might still be with us,” she read.
“Okay, this is weird,” Levac said. “What the hell kind of memorial is this?”
Aspen wiped her tears and smiled at Levac. “It’s a puzzle, a puzzle for us. Raven isn’t dead!”
“This is her memorial, Aspen,” Levac said in a reasonable voice.
