by Skye Knizley
Sable blinked out of her fog and walked with as much pride as she could muster to her mother’s side. Valentina raised her left hand and Sable kissed it before turning back to the guests. Valentina stood and even in her heels was shorter than Sable.
“Masters and Mistresses, may I present my daughter Branwen, who has been studying abroad these many years,” Valentina said.
The Court bowed in greeting. Sable returned it with a curtsy of her own, and conversation resumed. Valentina kissed her cheek.
“You look delicious, my love.”
Sable blushed. “Thanks, Mom.”
It was a moment before she caught the look in Valentina’s eye and the stares of vampires around her. “I..I mean thank you, Mother.”
Valentina nodded and resumed her seat. “Lord Rivera was just telling me about the import business he would like to open. Do continue, Julian.”
The older vampire, a portly gentleman in a black tuxedo that looked one size too small, smiled. “As I was saying, there is an open storefront not far from Isle of Night in Old Town. The business would…”
Sable tuned him out, she had no interest in vampire stores. This is what Raven did? Stand by Mom and look menacing while she discussed stores?
She looked away in disgust and caught the vampire across from her staring. She arched a questioning eyebrow and the vampire smiled back.
“That is your sister Pandora,” Dominique whispered at her elbow. “She is acting as Fürstin in your sister’s absence.”
“Is she Fürstin? I mean, is that what people call her?” Sable asked.
“Of course not! Didn’t you read the Totentanz? She is Mädchen, the Fürstin’s handmaiden. It is an old title, one your mother revived for Raven’s sake,” Dominique replied.
Sable nodded. “It seems a lot was done for Raven’s sake.”
“More was done for yours, child. Perhaps one day you will understand,” Dominique replied.
Doubt it.
Sable stifled a yawn and looked back at the gathered vampires, most of whom were chatting amongst themselves as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Some, a group of men and women wearing grey sashes, stood by themselves. Something about the way they stood and cast glances in her direction made her pause.
“Who are the grey-sashes?” she asked.
“Strohm Anucarudu. Members of a group your brother Xavier created. They do not believe Strohm is dead and seek to overthrow your mother.”
Sable glanced at her. “Then why are they here?”
Dominique looked at them and there was anger in her eyes. “Because they have a right to be, and your mother believes in keeping her enemies close.”
Sable looked back at the sashed vampires. She counted six visible weapons, but several men also carried the tell-tale bulges of concealed firearms. She slipped out of her heels and glanced at Dominique.
“Be right back.”
Dominique shook her head. “Sable, wait…”
Sable ignored her. The Anucarudu were making her fists itch and she felt pretty certain that Raven wouldn’t just stand there when she had a hunch. She nodded at Pandora then moved through the crowd, pausing only long enough to return a few quiet greetings, then stopped near the apparent leader of the Anucarudu, a female vampire in a dress that consisted mostly of leather straps that accentuated the pale flesh beneath.
“Good evening, Lady Tempeste,” the vampire said.
Sable extended a hand. “Good evening, I’m sorry, you have me at a disadvantage.”
The vampire kissed Sable’s knuckle. “Delacroix. Natasha Delacroix of the House Du Guerre.”
“Du Guerre? You’re a member of Francois’ house?”
Natasha bowed her head. “Indeed, he is my sire. This is my sister, Angela, Lord Ichabod Lux, Lordling Francis Trane, Lordling Harold Demars and Lady Shade Trueblood.”
“I didn’t know he had any childer.”
Natasha’s smile showed fang. “I know he is your Lehrer, but I suspect there are many things you do not know, mi’lady. Lord Du Guerre is a private man.”
Sable fought to keep her annoyance off her face. “True. Is he here, this evening? I haven’t seen him.”
Natasha shook her head. “Sadly, no. Business took him away this afternoon. He left before full dark. Something to do with your sister, I believe.”
“I don’t think so,” Sable said with a laugh. “I think Ravenel would rather eat her own shoes than deal with Francois.”
There was a quiet cough from her elbow and Sable glanced at Thad, who looked disapproving. He shook his head once, then moved closer. “I think what my sister means is that she doubts Fürstin Ravenel is working with Lord Du Guerre. The Fürstin is still in Seattle working for a task force, while Lord Du Guerre is here.”
Natasha smiled wider and gave a slight bow of her head. “Of course, Lord Strohm.”
Thad smiled. “Natasha, you know not to call me that. Thad is fine.”
Natasha’s face darkened. “Are you ashamed of your title, Lord Strohm?”
Thad gave her a blank look. “Of course.”
He took Sable’s elbow and she let him guide her away from the Anucarudu.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
Sable pulled her elbow free. “My job! Those bloodsuckers are armed to the teeth!”
Thad glared up at her. “Yes, they are! So is almost everyone here! Branwen, this looks like a social gathering, but it is really a bunch of enemies watching each other. It is controlled chaos that just needs one wrong word to go from barely-contained to full on explosion of violence. Especially with Raven gone!”
Sable blinked at him in surprise. “This is normal?”
He shrugged. “As normal as it gets. With Raven gone, mother is in danger 24/7. The only thing keeping most of these mosquitos in line is fear.”
“Fear of what?”
“Your sister coming home,” Thad replied.
He held her eyes a moment longer, then walked away to vanish back into the crowd. Once he was gone, Sable looked back at the nearest guests and for the first time noticed the weapons. A sword-cane here, a concealed pistol there, a decorative but deadly dagger at the waist. Thad was right, nearly everyone was armed and it was almost impossible to tell who supported whom. At least the Anucarudu wore armbands.
She sighed and returned to her place beside Valentina, who was now speaking with a young-looking female vampire about hunting rights.
“No, Lizzie. As I told you last week and every week for the last month, you cannot hunt humans, even on nights of the waning moon,” Valentina said.
Lizzie sighed. “With respect, Lady Valentina, it is difficult for one such as I to feed without hunting. Most vic…donors…act like I am some sort of Lolita.”
Sable looked at the vampire. Though she looked no more than sixteen, there was a power about her that belied her apparent age. She was well over a hundred years old.
“Perhaps you should consider dressing more like a modern teen and pursuing boys your apparent age instead of older men,” Valentina replied dryly.
Lizzie smiled and Sable saw the predator in her eyes. “I like my Claret properly matured.”
“I understand, Lizzie. I do. But the Totentanz is clear. No hunting. But I will speak with Lord Du Guerre, his club caters to older humans, perhaps he can find a position for you there,” Valentina said.
“Thank you, mi’lady,” Lizzie said.
“Having fun yet?”
Sable looked at Pandora, who was now standing beside her. “Not really. This isn’t what I’d expected. Francois made it sound more…interesting.”
“Francois is a politician and a master of manipulation. To him, this is interesting,” Pandora said.
Sable felt Pandora’s hand on her back. “Cheer up, it’s almost over.”
A mo
ment later the clocks began to chime the hour and vampires began to trickle out of the doors, leaving only family and a few of Valentina’s advisors behind. Valentina stood and joined Sable and Pandora.
“Thank you both for attending me.”
“You are welcome, Mother,” Pandora said.
Sable shrugged. “No problem. Is it always like this?”
Pandora smiled. “Boring? It has been since Ravenel killed a dissenter and challenged Lord Du Guerre right here on the floor. She made everyone swear fealty to mother, nobody has done that in the last one hundred years.”
“And did they?”
Valentina nodded. “They did. Branwen, you have called your sister weak and a wimp, though you have little cause. She is not, rather it is her fearsome reputation that protects me and this house. You would do well to remember that.”
Sable felt the anger clawing at her stomach. “So everyone keeps telling me.”
Pandora sighed. “You have her temper. Or she has yours. Branwen, why do you hold such animosity? Given half a chance, Raven would love you like she does the rest of this family. She could use family, a sister, who understands her.”
“Why? Because she lived here! She got to be with Mom and Dad! I grew up with a psychopath and a politician!” Sable cried.
Valentina reached for Sable’s hand, but she pulled away. “I was abandoned by my parents, do you have any idea what that is like?”
“It was the only choice I had,” Valentina said.
Sable turned away, wanting to be anywhere but here. “No, it wasn’t, Mom. You could have kept us together and let us be a family.”
Back in her room, Sable pulled off her gown and tossed it aside. She then began to dress in her own clothes. The bureau had paid for a decent hotel room for a change and anything was better than spending one more moment in this house. She had just buckled on her holster when there was a knock at the door and Valentina entered.
“May we speak?” Valentina asked.
“I have no interest, Mother,” Sable replied.
She slid her revolver into the holster and picked up her overnight bag.
“Please, Branwen, a moment.”
Sable glared at her. “Thirty seconds.”
Valentina sat on the bed and played with the many rings on her long fingers. “As you wish. You are right, Branwen. I should have kept you home. I let my fear of our children being used against us cloud my judgement and I ordered Du Guerre to protect you while still giving birth to your sister. It was a mistake, I knew it the moment Francois left. But it was too late. Your father was there and your sister was born. I couldn’t undo what I had done.”
Valentina raised her head and Sable saw tears of blood on her face. “I let myself believe it was best for you, to keep you safe.”
Sable stepped through the door, but paused. “You could have come for me, Mom. You could have brought us together, let me and Ray be raised as sisters instead of keeping us apart. We could have at least held each other’s hands during haircuts.”
Valentina nodded. “You are right, Branwen. I’ve said that.”
Sable had never seen Valentina look so miserable. She wanted to hug her, but instead asked, “Did Raven never ask about me?”
Valentina pulled a red handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. “No. She didn’t know you existed, child. How could she? I kept you a secret from almost everyone.”
Sable turned back. “She didn’t feel me? I felt her. All my life I knew she was out here, somewhere. Caderyn always told me it was in my head…”
Valentina stood and hugged Sable to her. “I’m sorry, Branwen. He never told me or I would have done something. Raven has never said anything, never asked. I am certain she cannot feel you.”
Sable opened her mouth to reply and pain thudded through her skull, like a spike was being driven through her eyes. She clutched at her head and fell to her knees, fighting to block it, to stop the pain. Hands held her, lifted her up.
“Branwen, what is wrong? What’s happening?” Valentina asked.
Sable opened her eyes but all she could see was Raven, her hair matted with blood. She lay on the floor, unmoving.
“It’s Raven.”
Sable blinked the vision away and looked at Valentina. “Mom, she’s in trouble.”
II
7800 S Essex Avenue, Chicago, IL 8:00 p.m.
Levac padded through the living room in his boxers and socks, absently chewing a cold piece of chicken. Sloan was sleeping before heading back to the hospital, and he was restless. He had heard from neither Raven nor Aspen all day, not since Aspen had advised she was going on assignment. He looked out the window at the city and dialed Raven’s number for what felt like the hundredth time. It rang once then went to her very professional, scripted voicemail.
“Ray? It’s Rupe again,” he said at the tone. “I’m getting worried, call me, please.”
He hung up and the phone immediately rang with an FBI number. He slid his thumb over the bar and answered, “Ray?”
“Agent Levac? It’s King.”
“Agent King, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Levac asked.
“A dead body,” King replied gruffly.
Levac paused. “What?”
“I’m calling you because of a corpse. Your witness, Sandoval. He’s dead, found in his room about an hour ago. Chicago PD is on scene, but the case is still yours,” King said.
“Damn. I’ll get my gear. Is Raven coming out to work it with me?”
“Negative. Storm is on assignment with Kincaid. Tempeste will back you up, if you can get her to answer the damn phone.”
Levac looked back out the window. “I thought Raven was on desk duty.”
There was a pause, then, “She was until this afternoon. She is back on active duty and that is all you need to know. Get on this, Levac, its important!”
The phone went dead. Levac tossed it on the table and frowned at the city outside. Lightning flickered on the horizon and he felt as much as heard the rumble of thunder. He’d never believed in portents, but if he had, this would have been a sign of a long night to come. He turned away and set about getting dressed in the same suit and coat he’d worn before. Sloan didn’t like it when he wore “dirty” clothes, but he hated doing laundry.
When he was done, he wrote her a note and stuck it to the bathroom mirror, then kissed her and made his way back down to the garage, where his Nash was waiting. On the way down he dialed Sable’s cell. After several rings there was no answer and he gave up. He knew where she had gone, she could catch up when she was done at court. Besides, she wasn’t exactly a skilled investigator, anyway.
He slid behind the wheel of his battered old Nash and started the engine. It coughed to life on the third try and he guided it out into the storm. The drive across the city was strangely quiet and after a few minutes he turned on the car’s radio and hummed along with a Golden Oldies station. He hadn’t realized how used he’d gotten to talking with Raven on those long drives to crime scenes, and he missed her critiquing his driving or playing with the old AM radio trying to find anything recorded before 1975.
A line of police vehicles, as well as the city’s Crime Scene unit, were parked outside Silver Gates. Two officers, young patrolmen that Levac didn’t recognize, stood outside protected from the rain by thin slickers and plastic-covered hats. Levac stopped behind the blue and white Crime Scene truck and hurried toward them. He flashed his badge and they let him through without question. A few minutes later he stood outside the police tape over Sandoval’s apartment door. The patrolman allowed him past and he found Harvey Pocock in the living room bent over the body of Brian Sandoval. Harvey wore a one-piece coverall beneath a lab coat at least two sizes too big, even for his bulk. Sweat was already soaking through both layers of cloth and beading on his face beneath his mop of scraggly hair and bushy eyebrows
. He looked up when Levac entered and smiled, showing the tombstones of his teeth.
“Hi, Detective… I mean Agent Levac. It’s good to see you.”
He extended a gloved hand; Levac made a face and declined the greeting. “It looks like you’ve already been busy, Harvey.”
Pocock looked at his bloody glove and shrugged. “Yeah. Busy night, this is the third corpse tonight. Something about the holidays always brings out the scumbags and crimes of passion.”
Levac leaned around Pocock’s bulk to look at Sandoval. His throat had been slashed nearly ear to ear and blood stained his neck and the pajama top he still wore. But it didn’t look like as much blood as it should have been from two severed arteries. He said as much to Pocock, who nodded.
“Dr, Zhu will have to confirm, but I don’t think he died of exsanguination. There isn’t enough blood, even for a man his age. Based on the wound I’d say his throat was cut with a serrated blade a few minutes after death.”
Pocock rocked forward on his knees and pointed at the skin of Sandoval’s neck. The edges of the wound were white-lipped and ragged. “I’d say it was a four, maybe five inch blade. The doc can confirm during autopsy.”
Levac nodded. “So if he didn’t bleed out, what killed him?”
Pocock shook his head. “Not that simple. He shows signs of defensive wounds on his hands, I collected something from beneath his nails, but he has nothing else life-threatening. Maybe something will come up in autopsy.”
“Swell. I’ve got a dead witness and no clue how he died or why his throat was cut after death. Where’s the detective on the case?”
“Murtaugh is in the next room,” Pocock started.
“Murtaugh is right here. Good to see you, Rupert.”
Levac straightened and shook the tall black man’s hand. Murtaugh had been on the force for almost thirty years and had the highest conviction record in District One. Mostly because he was good at his job, partially because most of Raven’s suspects ended up dead.
“Murt, good to see you. I hate to take over your case, but your vic is part of an ongoing investigation,” Levac said.
Murtaugh shrugged. “No skin off my nose, Rupe. This one is going to be a tough nut to crack anyway. You’ve got a corpse, no signs of forced entry, minimal signs of struggle and he bled out after death. I’d rather not deal with that this Christmas, it’s all yours.”
