by Skye Knizley
The far door opened a moment later and a burly woman in a white uniform leaned out. “Agent Storm? I can take you to Mr. Givens, he’s doing alright today, well enough to answer a few questions. Most of the time he’s batshit crazy.”
She had a voice like nails on a chalkboard.
Raven stepped through the door into a long hallway with a white and black tile floor, white-painted plaster walls and a high ceiling that made every step sound like thunder. It was almost as if someone had gone out of their way to make the place scary on purpose. She said as much and the orderly smiled. It wasn’t a nice one.
“This was pretty typical construction, back then,” she said. “They went for style more than function. Some of the rooms in the east wing still have bars on the doors. We don’t use them, of course, but they are still there nonetheless.”
Raven got the feeling this woman thought that was somehow cool.
They passed several offices, only two of which were occupied, before they reached a more modern security door with a glassed-in office. The guard inside looked at Raven and handed over a plastic zipper bag.
“Please put any blades, nail-clippers, aerosol sprays, lighters, cigarettes or weapons in the bag.”
“I beg your pardon?” Raven asked.
“Hospital rules,” he said. “We have mentally unstable patients here who may overpower you. They can use almost anything as a weapon to harm themselves or others so to be safe, we confiscate those items and return them when you leave. Sorry, it’s standard procedure.”
She didn’t like the idea of going beyond that door unarmed, but she knew he was right. As unlikely as it was, someone could get their hands on her pistol and then things would really go downhill.
She drew her pistol, ejected the magazine and placed it in the bag. The cartridges she put inside her coat. The guard stared at her as if she’d done something wrong and she glared back.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“You aren’t getting the ammunition, the only other things I have are my wallet and identification, which are about as dangerous as bubblegum. Open the door.”
She omitted the fact she had two knives concealed in her boots. She’d been carrying blades since high school, she wasn’t about to stop now.
He nodded to the orderly who said, “Turn around, I have to check you for concealed items.”
Raven turned and the woman began to briskly pat her down before she could say anything. Raven grabbed the woman’s arm and twisted it behind her back just shy of the breaking point.
“That was rude, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to touch a lady without permission? I’m a Federal officer here on a case. You already have my weapon, against regulations. Most agents would make you bring the witness to me, but this is me being polite. If you touch me again I’ll break your arm and let you spend the night handcuffed to a hospital bed. Any questions?”
“It’s regulations, ma’am,” the orderly grunted. “I’m supposed to pat down any visitors before they enter the ward!”
Behind her, the guard was staring at them, open-mouthed.
“Not today it isn’t. I don’t like to be touched,” Raven said.
She let go and stepped back, her eyes blazing. The orderly rubbed her arm and glared daggers at Raven. After a moment she motioned to the guard.
“Let her through. Have Fredericks introduce her to Lorne Givens in the rec-room. I’ll see you when you’re ready to leave, Agent.”
The guard buzzed her through without a word and Raven stepped into another hallway identical to the first. An additional corridor led toward the west wing while to her right was a large room with a swooping staircase guarded by two orderlies. Perhaps a dozen white-clothed patients sat on sofas or at tables inside. Most were simply staring into space, but a few were playing board-games with oversized pieces, apparently meant to keep them from choking on them.
A skinny black man with an easy smile and golden eyes exited the nearby office and approached, hand extended.
“Hi, Agent Storm. I’m Jimmy. They said you’re here to see Mr. Givens?”
Raven nodded. “Yes, please. I just have a few questions for him, I shouldn’t be long.”
“Hopefully he’s in an answering mood,” Jimmy said. “He can be crabby sometimes. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Raven followed Jimmy through the room to where an elderly man in a long sweater was sitting in front of a chess board. Raven recognized him as a much smaller and more wizened Lorne Fredericks. His time at the hospital didn’t appear to have done his body much good.
“Hello, Mr. Fredericks,” Lorne said without looking from his board.
He moved a pawn on the board and muttered “check” under his breath.
“Mr. Givens, this is Agent Storm from the FBI, she has some questions for you, okay?” Jimmy asked.
Givens looked up. His eyes were deep pits of exhaustion in a face so pale it was almost translucent.
“Questions for me? I haven’t broken a law in months.”
“Not those kinds of questions, Mr. Givens. Do you have a few minutes for me?” Raven asked.
“Of course, I don’t get many visitors. You can have Tom’s chair.”
Givens indicated the chair opposite him. Raven nodded at Jimmy and took the offered seat.
Jimmy patted her on the shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be just across the room.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.”
She waited until he was gone then looked back at Lorne.
“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Givens—”
“Doctor,” Lorne said, looking at the chess board.
“I’m sorry?”
“Doctor,” he repeated. “I’m a doctor of archaeology twice, just don’t call me doctor, doctor. I’m not giving you any news.”
Raven ignored the strange quip.
“Doctor, then. Thank you. I wanted to ask you some questions about your time in high school. I’m working on a case that involves several of your classmates that went on a trip to—”
“Guatemala,” Lorne finished. “I knew it would happen sooner or later. How many of them are dead?”
“At least six,” Raven replied. “How did you know?”
“Cause I was there.”
Raven made a face. “That isn’t exactly helpful, Dr. Givens. What do you mean?”
“I mean I was there when they opened the box, same as all the others. When they unleashed the curse that buried us alive and killed two of my best friends,” Lorne said.
“They weren’t killed by a curse, Dr. Givens,” Raven said. “They were killed by someone with a blade. Can you think of any reason why?”
Givens slammed his fist into the table making the pieces jump. “Because of what we did! We were young, we were stupid and we couldn’t read ancient Mayan. We just thought we’d found some trinkets! It was so much more.”
Jimmy appeared as if by magic. “Mr. Givens—”
“Doctor, dammit!” Lorne roared.
“Sorry, doctor,” Jimmy replied in a calm voice. “You have to lower your voice, you’re upsetting the other patients.”
Lorne visibly calmed himself by picking up a chess knight and rolling it around in his hand. “Of course, Fredericks. My apologies.”
He leaned closer to Raven.
“I am not crazy, Agent Storm. We unleashed something dreadful that day and nothing has been the same since.”
“There is no such thing as curses, doctor,” Raven said. “Whoever did this was human. Sick, twisted and demented, but human. Can you tell me who might have wanted your friends dead?”
“Yum Cimil.”
“What?”
“Yum Cimil,” Lorne repeated. “God of death.”
Raven frowned. “You really think some god of death is trying to kill off your high school archaeology club? Doctor, I’ve seen some bizarre things and even I don’t believe that. Could someone have survived the cave in and be looking for revenge, hired some professionals to do the dirty w
ork?”
Lorne snapped the head off the knight he was holding. “I doubt the thing you are looking for hired a mercenary out of guns and ammo. If you don’t believe me, get out of here!”
“Calm down, doctor,” Raven said. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“I think that’s enough excitement for one day,” Jimmy said. “Agent, I’m going to take him back to his room and get him a snack.”
Raven nodded. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Dr. Givens. I’ll come see you when this is over.”
She watched the lanky nurse help Lorne out of the room then turned to leave herself. The female orderly she’d met upon arrival was waiting for her. The guard opened the door and Raven stepped back through into the main corridor.
“No hard feelings?” she said to the orderly.
“Of course not, Agent Storm,” the orderly replied with a smile. “I shouldn’t have touched you without permission.”
Raven turned to the guard who was taking his time with her weapon and she felt a sharp sting in her neck. She turned to look at the orderly behind her and the world started to go black.
“Son of a b—” was as far as she got before the darkness claimed her.
LENOX HOTEL
BOSTIN, MA. 5:30 P.M.
ASPEN KINCAID STEPPED OUT OF the elevator and paused in front of the antique mirror that decorated the wall. Her purple hair flowed freely over her shoulders save for the single braid she wore in front of her left ear and she’d accentuated her light-blue eyes with a hint of cosmetics before she’d left Seattle. She’d worn a pair of jeans and a peasant top to which she’d added her favorite leather and denim jacket after landing. Boston was freaking cold.
Satisfied she looked okay, she hurried down the hall and opened the door to Raven’s room. The first thing she saw was the sun filtering away through the room’s wide window, something that immediately set alarm bells ringing in her head. The second was the attractive blonde woman sitting in one of the room’s comfortable-looking leather chairs. She appeared to be pouring over a pile of papers. Whoever she was, she had a lycan’s aura. Not good.
Aspen dropped her backpack to have her hands free. “Who are you?”
“Special Agent Kole, FBI,” Kole said. “And you are?”
“Aspen Kincaid. What are you doing in Raven’s room? Is she okay?”
Kole stood. “Oh! Raven’s girlfriend. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m her new partner. As far as I know she’s fine, she went to Worcester a few hours ago.”
Aspen kicked the door shut and crossed the room to where Kole was standing. “Okay… I don’t see that being permanent. Why are you in her room?”
Kole waved a hand at the file. “This is where we left the file this morning, the valet let me in so I could add to the investigation and wait for Raven to get back.”
“Great. Where’s Raven and why aren’t you watching her back like you’re supposed to?” Aspen asked.
“I was talking to the coroner and making calls while she went out to Worcester to see a possible witness. From what I’ve seen, Agent Storm doesn’t need backup,” Kole said.
Aspen picked up one of the crime scene photos Kole had been looking at. “That’s what everyone says. What’s the case?”
Kole snatched the photo from Aspen’s fingers. “It’s none of your business, is what it is.”
“Listen, furball, I’m a Forensic scientist with the lab in Quantico working as support to Abraham King in Seattle,” Aspen said. “I’m cleared for anything you are and Raven called me here for a reason. So what’s the case?”
Kole stared at her for a moment then looked down at the file. “Monsignor Quinn was murdered a few days ago. Agent King believes it to be related to several others from all over the country. He assigned it to us to find out.”
Aspen leaned on the table and rifled through the photos. “Sweet! Another murder. Show me what you got from the coroner.”
Kole sorted another set of photographs that showed Monsignor Quinn on the exam table. He was lying face down with the wound in his back exposed.
“Raven was right, there was more to the wound in his back than just a cut. An MRI scan showed soft tissue damage beneath the wound.”
Aspen picked up the scan image of Quinn’s back. It was hard to see, but it was there; the outline of a stylized skull.
She pursed her lips. “I doubt Monsignor Quinn was attacked by a pirate, so what the hell is this?”
“We don’t know yet,” Kole said. “I sent a picture to Agent King, maybe he will come up with something.”
“Mm, he always does,” Aspen replied. “The guy has more contacts than the President.”
She held up the photos and compared the neck wound to the careful cut in his back. “We’re looking for a serrated blade, five inches or so with a steep curve, like an oversized leaf blade.”
“That’s what Boston’s tool mark specialist said, yes. They also found black chips that are still at the lab for analysis. We should hear back—”
“It’s obsidian,” Aspen said.
Kole blinked in surprise. “How do you know that?”
Aspen pointed at a photo which showed a single shard of black on a microscope slide. “Because it’s the same as my Athame. We are looking for a five inch long blade of obsidian, probably with a wide bone handle.”
Kole wrote the details down on one of the files. “You sound pretty certain.”
“I am. Raven didn’t ask me to come all the way out here just cause I’m cute,” Aspen said. “I know my stuff.”
Aspen pulled her phone out of her pocket and started scrolling through names.
“Who are you calling?” Kole asked.
“Raven,” Aspen said. “I’m getting a bad feeling. Where did you say she went again?”
“Worcester, to a mental hospital. What do you mean you’re getting a bad feeling?”
Aspen held the phone to her ear. “I’m not just her girlfriend, I’m her familiar. I’ve had a weird feeling since I left Seattle, but it is getting worse. I think she might be in trouble.”
“How can she get in trouble in a hospital? It’s a hospital!”
“Raven can get into trouble anywhere.”
Aspen listened to her phone for a moment then lowered it, annoyance and worry warring in her head.
“Ray isn’t answering me. Do you have a car?”
Kole nodded. “Yes, I have the bureau issue, Raven wouldn’t drive it.”
Aspen smiled and picked up her pack. “I’m not surprised. You drive.”
“Drive? Drive where?” Kole asked.
“Worcester. By way of the nearest drive-thru, my airplane snack isn’t cutting it.”
WORCESTER STATE HOSPITAL
WORCESTER, MA. 6:15 P.M.
THE BLACK POOL OF UNCONSCIOUSNESS held her tight in its icy grip and Raven struggled to wake. She could smell the musk of dust, decay and age; the part of her that was fighting for consciousness held onto those smells, they were real, they stank and she hated them.
She opened her eyes and blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling several feet above her head. The plaster was cracked and flaking and looked much older than anything she’d ever seen. The walls were the same, and the floor was covered in what looked like old-fashioned tile, now faded, cracked and filthy. Some effort had been made to sweep the majority of the broken pieces into a pile. Some, but not much.
She was lying on what felt like a cot or perhaps a gurney, with a vinyl-covered mattress and side rails. Her arms were cuffed securely to the rails with medical restraints.
“Sleeping beauty awakes,” a voice said.
Raven turned her head to see the female orderly standing outside the barred door, a smug smile in place below her crooked nose.
“Aww, don’t look like that, Agent Storm. It’s your own fault you got into this mess. I was going to let you go, until you embarrassed me in front of my people. After that, well, the bounty Caderyn put on your head was too much to ignore.”
“W
hat bounty?” Raven asked.
“You didn’t know? Lord Caderyn was very upset about you killing most of his honor guard, as well as three of his street bosses,” the orderly said. “He wants to speak with you and is paying top dollar to anyone who helps bring you in.”
Raven rolled her eyes. “This is why I hate vampires. Politics, cow-towing and bullshit that has nothing to do with reality. Lady, do you have any idea who I am?”
The orderly leaned against the bars. “Some dhampyr from Chicago. I don’t see what the fuss is about, I took you down easily enough. I thought you’d be out longer, though. I must have misread the dose.”
“I guess you really are as dumb as you are ugly,” Raven said. “Do you think Caderyn wants an audience with every dhampyr that comes to town? I’m a Fürstin, the first dhampyr to be one in a thousand years.”
The orderly’s face darkened. “Well, then I will just have to make sure his prize is waiting when he comes. I hope I remember to feed you, me being so dumb and all.”
She walked away, keys swinging around her finger. After a few moments Raven heard the sound of a gated door opening and closing, then descending footsteps.
Caderyn, I’m going to pull your fangs out with my bare hands, Raven thought.
She flexed her arm and tested the strength of the straps around her wrists. Though the cot she lay on was at least fifty years old, the straps felt brand new, with no hint of give. The orderly had known what she was doing.
What she hadn’t known was Raven’s bloodline. Raven closed her eyes and called upon the vampiric blood coursing through her veins. When she opened her eyes again the world had gone blue, with hints of red where the orderly’s body heat had warmed the floor and the barred door.
She pulled her arms free from the cuffs and sat up. The cell didn’t look any better through her vampire senses. Three walls, a barred door and a tiny window so small she couldn’t have fit her wrist in the barred gap.
