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.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, items, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover and Book Design by: Dreams2Media
Edited by: EAL Editing Services
Copyright© Skye Knizley 2016
Raven Storm™ and The Storm Chronicles™ are trademarks of Skye Knizley
All rights reserved.
Vamptasy Publishing
www.vamptasy.com
The Storm Chronicles
Stormrise
Stormrage
Stormwind
Shadowstorm
Raven
Storm
Night Raven
Other Storm Chronicles Novels
Aspen
Fresh Blood
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Dedication
For Michelle, with love. Always.
Forget what you think you know about the world. There is another world, a darker world where true evil exists; vampires, lycans, demons, the bogeyman, all the things that go bump in the night walk among you, rub shoulders with you…and feed on you.
I’m something different. I was born to a pureblood vampire and a human man. I have a bloodsucker’s strength and almost none of their weaknesses. They call me dhampyr, or day walker. And that’s when they’re being nice.
I used to be a Chicago cop, a damn good one. Now I work for the FBI, Section Thirteen. Don’t ask. All I can tell you is when things go bump in the night, I’m the one who bumps back.
I am the Night.
I am Raven Storm.
CHAPTER ONE
Lenox Hotel, Boston, MA: All Hallows Eve, 7:00PM
Raven stretched her arm, wincing at the crack of bone and sinew. She’d had enough blood to raise the dead, yet her arm was taking its sweet time healing. Maybe wounds bestowed by angry gods were a little harder to heal. She had a few days of holiday coming, it should be fine by the end of the week.
“Does it still hurt?” Aspen asked.
Raven looked up to see her standing in the doorway. Aspen had dressed to match Raven in leather pants and jacket, the only difference being her blouse, which was the same bright purple as her hair.
“A little,” Raven replied. “I’m sure it will be okay in a couple days. What about you? I heard you used more than a little magik last night, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Aspen said. “Magik isn’t like being a vampire. Give me a quart of Cherry Garcia ice-cream and I’m peachy.”
Raven picked up her suitcase and headed for the door. Levac was already waiting for them downstairs. “What did King say about your advanced magik?”
Aspen followed with her backpack hanging from one shoulder. “Not much. He suggested I keep it on the down-low, though. Not many people outside Section Thirteen know what we can do, and we’re supposed to be keeping it that way. Apparently he’s had to grease quite a few palms and make some threats to keep this one under wraps.”
Raven shrugged. “He knew I didn’t do subtle when he asked me to work for him. He should have known my partners didn’t, either. What about Kinnamon?”
“He offered me a job,” Bobbi said from the elevator. “I was just coming to see you.”
“A job? With Section Thirteen?” Raven asked.
Bobbi nodded. “I guess I impressed him or something.”
“Think long and hard before you take it,” Aspen said. “You saw what Raven went through. Considering the mortality rate in this job, I expect most assignments are like this.”
Bobbi smiled. “Sounds like fun.”
“You have a strange idea of fun, Bobbi,” Raven said.
They stepped into the elevator and Raven pushed the lobby button. An instrumental version of AC/DC’s Big Gun was playing when the doors closed and she glared at the speaker in the corner; the music was setting her teeth on edge.
They were passing through the lobby a few minutes later when Raven caught a flash of red hair outside. Very familiar red hair.
“Son of a bitch,” she growled. “We missed one.”
“What?” Aspen asked.
Raven dropped her suitcase and started running. “Stay here!”
The redhead must have heard her because she started running as well, her boot-heels ringing on the sidewalk. They were all the way to Copley Square before Raven caught up and sent her spinning to the ground with a flying side kick.
“I thought I’d gotten you all, Walker,” Raven said. “I guess I was wrong.”
Raven reached down to haul the woman to her feet, but she elbowed Raven in the face and Raven felt one of her newly regenerated teeth loosen from the impact. She rolled away and the woman jumped to her feet, fists at the ready.
Raven wiped blood from her lip and stood. “That’s my face you’re wearing, lady.”
“Maybe you’re wearing my face, bitch,” the woman snapped back.
She snapped into a blindingly fast kick aimed at Raven’s head. Raven blocked it with both forearms and spun. The back of her fist connected with the woman’s jaw and she felt the satisfying crunch of bone. The doppelganger groaned in pain and Raven followed up with a punch that should have knocked the woman’s head off. Instead, the doppelganger blocked the blow and hit Raven in the throat with outstretched fingers. Raven gagged and backpedaled, trying to get some fighting room.
“Are you through, yet?” the woman asked.
“Not even remotely,” Raven replied.
She blinked and let her monster rise behind her eyes. The world went blue and Raven was surprised to see that her opponent’s aura and heat signature was very similar to her own. She’d figure out why later.
She did a hand-spring and lashed out with both feet. The kick hit the doppelganger in the chest and sent her crashing into the wall hard enough to leave an imprint in brick. Raven rolled to her feet and came up swinging, expecting to take the doppelganger down. Instead, the woman blocked and dodged every blow and returned with her own, almost connecting with a haymaker that would have left Raven’s ears ringing.
The fight continued in a flood of kicks and punches that would have made John Woo quit action movies forever had he seen it. After several seconds, the doppelganger hit Raven with a fist like concrete. The blow staggered her and sent her to one knee. The woman’s second blow knocked Raven to the ground, her cheek split wide open.
“You lose,” the doppelganger spat.
Raven would never know if she heard or just somehow sensed the foot coming toward her neck, but she rolled out of the way in the nick of time. The doppelganger’s boot connected with pavement with enough force to crack stone. Raven kicked out at the doppelganger’s ankle and the joint snapped with an audible crack, making the woman fall to the ground with a loud scream.
Breathing heavy, Raven stood and drew her Automag. “Had enough?”
“Both of you have! Raven, put that thing away!”
Raven knew that voice. She loved that voice, but she hadn’t heard it in almost sixteen years. She turned toward it and saw the source. In the shadows, not far away, stood a man. He was dressed in a red sweater and black pants over combat boots. A weapon that looked a lot like her own Automag hung under his right arm in a black leather holster.
The man struck a match and raised it to the cigar that dangled from his lips. In the flicker of light, Raven saw he was tall, with close-cropped black hair, a perfect black goatee and blazing eyes. An FBI badge hung on a chain around his neck.
“Hello, Raven,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’d like you to meet your sister, Sable Branwen Tempeste. Your twin sister.”
“Dad?”
“Yes, honey. It’s me,” Mason said.
Raven shook her head and pointed her pistol at the man in the shadows.
“I saw your body. I saw you dead. You were shot and left to bleed to death a few weeks before my birthday. Mr. King stood with me at your funeral. You died!”
Mason Storm raised his hands. “No. I’m sorry, Raven, It’s me. I couldn’t tell you the truth, you were too young.”
Raven’s hand shook as she stared at the man in the shadows. He didn’t look any different than he had in his coffin fifteen years ago. It couldn’t be him. Humans aged and Mason Storm had been all too human. It had to be another of Klien’s lackeys, a snake creature.
“My father is dead,” she said.
The man slipped out of the shadows, words forming on his lips.
Raven’s pistol spat thunder, silencing him.
“Ravenel, no!” Sable yelled.
II
Boston Memorial Hospital, 11:00PM
The EKG machine beeped quietly to itself, almost in time to the lightning outside. An early winter snowstorm was blanketing the city, accompanied by the worst thunder Raven had heard in years. She stared blankly at her father’s face and couldn’t believe it was real. Immortal, King had said over the phone. Virtually unkillable by any normal means and most supernatural ones. Immortal, perhaps the only one.
Mason Storm didn’t look that way lying in the hospital bed with tubes coming out of his nose and almost no heartbeat. His black hair was matted with sweat, his face was pale and he looked almost like he was aging right before her eyes.
Raven heard someone enter the room and didn’t turn around. It was combat boots on tile, which meant it had to be someone from the police or her father’s team.
“He’s going to be fine, Ravenel. It was a good shot, though, it will take the old fart some time to grow his heart and lungs back,” Sable said.
Raven turned and glared at Sable. It was like looking into a mirror; a dark one. Sable had the same red hair, same green eyes, same pale skin, but somehow she was dark, a shadow.
“Don’t call him that!” she snarled.
Sable raised her hands. “Chill, sis, it was a joke. I guess I got all Dad’s sense of humor, huh?”
“And you got Mom’s complete lack of compassion,” Raven shot back.
Sable shrugged. “I grew up around the monsters, Ravenel. When you grow up around them, you don’t see them quite the same way.”
“Dad isn’t a monster—”
“Isn’t he?” Sable asked. “He let you think he was dead for half your life, never told you about me and he’s some kind of freak immortal. How is he not one of the monsters?”
Raven stood, her hand itching to punch Sable’s face in. “I didn’t say I understood or forgave him. But he isn’t a monster. Whatever he did, he did it for a damn good reason.”
Sable snorted. “It was the same reason he never told you about me. He was protecting you.”
“He was protecting both of you,” a new voice said.
Raven turned to see Valentina Tempeste, Mistress of Chicago and Boston standing in the doorway. Her dark hair was pulled into a long ponytail and for once she wore a black pantsuit matched with stiletto pumps. If she’d been wearing a blouse, she’d have looked almost human, but the silver chain dangling between her barely concealed breasts was a dead giveaway that she was anything but normal. Normal women knew that was inappropriate everywhere except the fashion runway.
“Hello, Mother,” Raven said.
“Mother,” Sable echoed. “I think you have some explaining to do.”
Valentina arched an eyebrow at Sable then addressed Raven. “Child, I am sorry you had to find out this way. If it is any consolation, I was with him for years before finding out. Your father kept his…condition, a closely guarded secret.”
“You knew he was alive?” Raven asked.
Valentina nodded. “Of course, Ravenel.”
Raven could feel her anger boiling and let it show in her eyes. “And you didn’t tell me? How could you? When he died, I was devastated! I spent weeks just staring at his grave!”
“I know, child. And I wanted to tell you, but we thought it was best to remain silent. Your father had been approached by Agent King to lead a new task force, we thought it was better if you didn’t know, if you didn’t end up in that world.”
“And look, she ended up in it anyway, right beside me. Or should I say ahead of me, because she’s Fürstin. Great job, Mom!” Sable said.
“Branwen, you will hold your tongue!”
Valentina’s voice echoed around the room.
“What about her?” Raven asked. “Why not tell me I had a sister? A twin?”
Valentina walked past them and looked out the window. “Because he didn’t know she existed. I hid Branwen from him when she was born. Francois Du Guerre brought her here to Boston where he could keep an eye on her. I checked in as often as I could, and sent my familiar, Didi, to watch over her.”
“Dad didn’t know he had two children?” Raven asked.
“I told you they were monsters,” Sable said.
“Silence, Branwen!” Valentina roared.
She visibly calmed herself and turned to Raven. “No. Ravenel, your father wanted a daughter to grow up as normal as possible. But I knew our children would be powerful, more powerful than we are, and Strohm’s minions would do anything to take them and use them against us—”
“So they separated us and hung us out to dry—” Sable said.
Valentina moved in the blink of an eye and picked Sable up by the throat. “I am speaking, child. You will be silent!”
“Put me down, Mother, I’m not afraid of you!” Sable said.
“You should be, child. You have displeased me greatly,” Valentina said.
“Aww, whatcha gonna do, Mom? Spank me?”
Valentina sighed and lowered Sable to the floor. “You try my patience, Branwen.”
Sable shrugged again. “So I tested Ravenel, I needed to know she had a right to be Fürstin. She isn’t bad, for Mommy’s pet, got a hell of a right hook.”
“Enough, Branwen,” Valentina said. “Attend me outside, Francois is here.”
Raven’s jaw dropped. “You brought Du Guerre?”
Valentina glanced at her. “Of course. He is Branwen’s Lehrer.”
Raven’s fist clenched hard enough to make her knuckles creak. “Mother, are you telling me you knew who Du Guerre was when he tried to sell me up the river to Strohm?”
Sable snorted. “Francois would sell his mother to a cat-food company i
f it served his purpose.”
“He has always been loyal to our family, Raven. I have kept him on a short leash since that incident. They were extenuating circumstances you would understand if—”
“If you’re going to spout some vampire nonsense, you can stuff it, Mother,” Raven said. “No circumstances make up for serving me to Strohm. You have no idea what was done to me in that place, the violation…”
Raven turned back to Mason, lying in his hospital bed. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll check on you, soon.”
“Where are you going?” Valentina asked.
Raven shrugged into her jacket and settled her pistol in place beneath her left arm. “Anywhere you’re not.”
“Raven, please, let me explain!” Valentina said.
“Explain what, Mom? Ray just found out her whole life has been complete bullshit. Let her go cry it off,” Sable said.
Raven stopped in front of Sable, her monster threatening to come out. “I don’t know who you are, and you don’t know me. Having my face and my blood doesn’t make you my sister. We’ll talk another time.”
Sable smirked. “Looking forward to it, sis.”
Raven held her gaze a moment longer, then walked away. Outside, Francois Du Guerre stood motionless. He’d dressed in a black suit matched to a leather coat with a red lining. He was holding a bouquet of red roses.
“Ravenel—” he began.
Raven punched him hard enough that he fell backward into the wall, the roses falling around him like red rain.
“Shut up, Francois!” Raven yelled. “Just shut up.”
She pushed through the door at the end of the hall and climbed the stairs until she reached the highest floor, then wandered until she found a quiet dead end with windows overlooking the city. There, she stopped and leaned her head against the cool glass. She couldn’t believe it. Any of it. That she’d been lied to and manipulated by her mother wasn’t unexpected, but to find out she had a sister, her father was still alive and that her father had kept it from her, that was almost too much.
Her fist shot out of its own volition and punched a hole in the cinder-block wall beside the glass. She felt the delicate bones in her hand break, felt the cold drip of blood on her fingers, but it was a distant sensation; numb.
