by Skye Knizley
Raven blinked at him in the rain and raised her sword. “It’s just me and you now, bub. Drop your blade and I’ll find you a nice soft cell somewhere, maybe with some hearts to suck on.”
“You cannot hope to defeat me,” Klien said. “I am the chosen of a God!”
“A God that died four thousand years ago,” Raven replied. “Come on, Klien, give it up!”
“I will do what I must,” Klien said. “Yum Cimil demands it!”
Raven shrugged. “Your funeral.”
Klien turned away and, for a moment, Raven thought he’d come to his senses. He then leapt through the air, his sword leading the way. Raven blocked and blocked again, beginning a furious exchange of blades that left her nicked and breathless. In mere seconds she found herself backed up against the fence. Klien was like a man possessed. Which, after a fashion, he was.
Raven blocked another of his attacks and lashed out with her foot. Klien staggered and in the opening he presented, Raven swung. Klien blocked her at the last moment and somersaulted backwards, out of range.
“You picked up a few things,” Raven gasped.
“Yum Cimil’s power is mine to command,” Klien replied. “Now, you will die.”
“Not today,” Raven said.
She charged, her blade held high and once again the battle was joined.
CRANSTON FARMHOUSE
SOMEWHERE, MA. 6:45 A.M.
“COME ON, BOBBI, FASTER!” ASPEN cried. “She’s in trouble.”
The police cruiser bounced and again bottomed out on the old dirt road that led from Route 20 to the Cranston house.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” Bobbi replied. “If I go any faster, we’re going to be walking and in this rain that could be a terminal mistake.”
The rickety farmhouse with its white wood siding, new porch and unlit jack o’lanterns came into view, along with four police cars and King’s FBI Suburban. Bobbi parked next to them and Aspen was out and running before the car even came to a full stop. She leapt up the porch stairs and crashed through the door, almost taking out one of the police officers, who made the mistake of trying to stop her. Aspen raised her arm and he slammed into the wall with more magikal force than she’d intended. Levac sat nearby, a cleaver in one hand, a snake-like head in the other. King exited the kitchen and glared at her.
“Put him down, Miss Kincaid,” he said.
“Where’s Raven? Is she okay?” Aspen asked.
King rapped his cane on the floor. “The officer, Miss Kincaid!”
Aspen blinked and the policeman collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
“Where is Raven?” Aspen asked again.
King frowned. “Miss Kincaid, I was not aware your magik had advanced far enough for combat.”
Aspen raised her hands in what she thought was a combat stance. “I’m full of surprises. Where the hell is Raven?”
“Easy, Asp, you’re with friends,” Levac said. “Raven went after the other snake things, what’s going on?”
“She can’t kill them, not without breaking the curse,” Aspen said. “I went with Officer Kinnamon on a ride along, oh, it’s hard to explain. Short version is a witch gave us intel in exchange for saving her store. Klien is cursed, he’s some sort of Guardian thing and he can’t be killed unless we break the curse keeping him alive.”
“You got this from a witch?” King asked. “Do you believe her?”
“Yeah, I do,” Bobbi said from the door. “She made it hard not to. Agent Storm is in trouble.”
“Miss Kincaid, am I to understand you divulged the facts of this case to Officer Kinnamon?” King asked.
“Yeah, I did, I needed her help,” Aspen said. “You can court-martial me or whatever the Feds do later, for now we have to help Raven before it’s too late.”
King continued to glare at her for a moment, then he reached out with his cane and pushed the door shut.
“Officer Kinnamon, welcome to the fold. I will debrief you later. Miss Kincaid, what do we need?”
Aspen pulled a small package out of her jacket. “We need a large pot, and we need that gold thing you were carrying. Rupe, tell me you still have it.”
Levac reached into his seemingly bottomless pocket and pulled the piece of gold out. He’d wrapped it in what looked like a cheeseburger wrapper. “Right here. I guess they couldn’t smell it on me or whatever it is they do.”
“I need a fire, some water, and everyone to stand back,” Aspen said.
“What do I do with smiley here?” Levac asked.
Aspen looked at the snake head he was still holding. “Toss him. If I know Raven she’ll find a way to kill the lackeys. It’s the Guardian we have to worry about.”
Levac set the head aside and moved to Aspen, who hugged him.
“Let’s do this, kiddo,” he said.
Aspen let go and started setting up the spell.
LOST CEMETERY
SOMEWHERE, MA. 7:02 A.M.
RAVEN SPIT BLOOD AND WHAT felt like a tooth and struggled back to her feet. Things were blurry and she felt like she was starving to death, but she could make out Klien standing atop a crypt, his blade held loosely in one hand.
“Surrender, Agent Storm, and your death will have meaning,” Klien said. “I do not enjoy hurting you so.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Raven replied. “If you’re such a humanitarian put the sword down and be under arrest. I’ve got eighty different charges on you.”
She spat another stream of blood and wiped her mouth. “Make that eighty-one.”
“You are either the bravest woman I’ve ever met or the stupidest,” Klien said.
“My fiancé would probably say stupidest,” Raven said. “But I’ll go for brave.”
She gathered herself and leapt onto the crypt with Klien. Again their blades clashed and sparks crackled along them in a dance of good versus evil. Raven pushed Klien away and spun, adding all her strength to her attack. Her blade cut neatly through Klien’s wrist. His blade, hand still attached, went spinning off into the mud and she impaled him through the chest.
Klien sighed and looked down at the blade protruding from him. “Really, Agent Storm, why don’t you give up? You cannot kill me, I cannot die, Yum Cimil will not allow it.”
Raven pulled her sword free with a sound like raw meat being torn and attacked again. Klien caught her wrist with his remaining hand and squeezed, making the bones in her arm crunch.
“I am weary of this game. Surrender!” Klien roared.
“Not in this lifetime,” Raven groaned.
She punched him in the face with her freehand and followed it up with a kick that sent Klien to the ground next to his severed hand, which immediately reattached. She dropped to her knees and shook her head. She was running out of strength.
“Will you not quit and save yourself this pain?” Klien asked.
“Raven doesn’t know how to quit,” Aspen said.
Raven turned her head to see Aspen, Levac and Bobbi standing in the gate. She tried to warn them away, but couldn’t find the breath.
She heard Aspen’s voice in her head. We’re here, love. Draw from us. And get ready to move.
Without thinking about it, Raven drew strength from her familiars, her family, but not too much. She refused to let them feel the pain that was coursing through her. She straightened and held her sword in one hand. Aspen threw the golden disk she’d been holding into the air and Raven sensed what she needed to do. In a motion that would have made Sam Walker proud she drew her Automag and put a single shot through the center of the coin. It was close enough to the others that the impact resonated throughout, sending a shockwave through the crypt that vanished into the forest. Klien screamed in rage and leapt toward her, but Raven was waiting for him. When he landed, she placed the Automag against his forehead.
“I hate snakes,” she said.
The Automag boomed and Klien’s head vanished in a puff of blood and scales. His body slumped to the ground with Raven beside it, blood runn
ing from the dozens of cuts and stab wounds in her body.
LENOX HOTEL
ALL HALLOWS EVE, 6:00 P.M.
BOSTON, MA.
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. Maybe wounds bestowed by angry gods were a little harder to heal. She had a few days off 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, and her ring, which had a red stone instead of blue.
“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 okay?”
“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 13 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 13?” 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, or worse.”
Bobbi smiled. “Sounds like fun.”
“You have a strange idea of fun, Bobbi,” Raven said.
The stepped into the elevator and Raven pushed the lobby button. They listened to a terrible rendition of AC/DC’s Big Gun before arriving a few minutes later. They were passing through the lobby to where Levac was waiting 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 new 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.”
“Maybe you’re wearing my face, bitch,” the woman replied.
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?” the woman asked.
“Not 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 a wall hard enough to leave an imprint in brick. Raven rolled 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 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 said.
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.
Raven stood and drew her Automag. “Had enough?”
“Both of you have.”
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 a tall man 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. He had to be another of Klien’s lackeys.
“My father is dead,” she said.
The man stepped forward, words forming on his lips.
Raven’s pistol spat thunder, silencing him.
THANKS TO:
My fellow gamer girls and dorks who keep me in crazy plot ideas.
The Massachusetts Historical Society for answering my outlandish random questions.
The Lenox Hotel for not kicking out the strange woman taking pictures of rooms.
St. Louis Motorcars for letting me in a Rapide knowing I can never buy one.
My publisher, Sarah, who knows I sometimes need a hug.
My publicist, J.I., who works too damn hard.
My stylist Kelly, who makes me look better than I should.
And my fans who make me get up every day. You mean the world to me.
Thank you all so much,
Skye
