Stormrage

  STORMRAGE

  THE STORM CHRONICLES

  BOOK TWO

  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 Design by: Vivid Designs

  Edited by: Elizabeth A. Lance

  Copyright© Skye Knizley 2014

  All rights reserved

  V A M P T A S Y P U B L I S H I N G

  www.vamptasy.com

  For Amanda, my sis and best friend.

  Thank you for being there.

  For my soul sisters Ada, Cat, Faith, Joanie, Linna, Pyxi, Rue and many more.

  Thank you for always being awesome.

  And for my fans.

  Thank you for believing.

  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'm a police detective for the Chicago Police, Homicide division.

  When things go bump in the night, I'm the one who bumps back.

  I am the Night.

  I am Raven Storm.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Rain and sleet streamed in rivulets down the leaded glass window of Tempeste Manor. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled. The light briefly illuminated the lawn below where the winter storm was rapidly washing away the slurry of ash and blood that had once been a large group of vampires bent on destroying the estate. The renegades had made it as far as the garage before being wiped out by the new security force.

  Raven watched the rain fall with a mixture of anger and frustration. Yes, it was helpful in washing away all the remains, but it also made finding any evidence as to who the leader of the coven had been almost impossible to find. By morning, any trace evidence would be gone or useless.

  On the other hand, it didn't take a genius to know a Master had to be behind the attack on the Mistress' estate. No one else in their right mind would attack the residence of the Mistress of the City now that Strohm was dead. There had been six attacks in the last month, each one growing more violent. Francois Du Guerre knew the layout of the house, the defenses, and just how many defenders Valentina had; on the other hand he knew he couldn't hold the city as long as Valentina had so many loyal houses following her lead. No, Du Guerre was too smart for this. This was someone crazy.

  Raven sighed and her eyes shifted to her own reflection in the glass. Red hair, so bright it seemed to glow, spilled down her back and framed a face that looked like it belonged on a very angry, but delicate china doll. The silvered combs that had held it away from her face had been used as werewolf deterrents during the night's battle and her hair now spilled in a fiery waterfall of anger and regret. The low cut black dress, another of her mother Valentina's purchases, was barely hanging from one delicate strap and showed she wasn't wearing a lot underneath. The six inch stiletto heels her mother had chosen to finish the outfit were somewhere in the yard. Raven took some pleasure in the loss of the ridiculous footwear. Valentina still thought that stiletto heeled, Opera pumps were the height of vampire fashion and she bought them for Raven whenever she could - in spite of or maybe because of how much Raven hated them.

  Raven smeared a red-nailed hand across her reflection and leaned her forehead against the cool glass. Francois' last words to her, “I am so very sorry, my love. Forgive me," echoing in her head.

  "You gave me to Strohm on a platter. I will never forgive you," she whispered, slamming a fist against the glass. "Never, you son of a bitch! I will see you burn and hold your ashes in my hands!"

  Regaining her composure, Raven turned and looked into the ballroom. Her mother's defenders were scattered about the chamber, tending wounds and mourning those who had been turned to ash by Strohm's soldiers.

  The tall redhead stepped down and passed through the guards, hugging some, offering her condolences to others and thanking them all. Though she hated it, it was her duty as Fürstin and her mother's right hand to keep up morale and ensure her mother's guards were ready for the next fight. From the looks of things they would need to find volunteers to turn, an idea she loathed, but knew her sister Pandora would enjoy more than she should. By the end of the week their security forces would be back to full strength.

  Raven sighed again and continued across the room. All she wanted was a hot bath and some cocoa. She was almost to the stairs when Dominique, her mother's familiar and consort, appeared and lightly touched her elbow. Raven looked down at the beautiful, barefoot blonde and offered a small smile. "Yes, Dominique?"

  The girl bowed her head and then looked Raven in the eyes. "Fürstin Ravenel, Detective Levac is at the door. He says you aren't answering your phone and Lieutenant Frost has a new case for you. I have drawn you a bath and prepared your work attire for you. Detective Levac will be waiting in the side drawing room."

  "Thank you, honey. Please get him some coffee and a cheeseburger while he waits," Raven said, heading up the stairs. "The man is always hungry."

  On the way up the stairs, Raven stopped to place a loving hand on the door to her mother's room. Valentina had adjourned shortly after the battle had ended. The war was taking a toll on her and her health, though she would never show it to the rest of the Court. She had become Mistress to bring peace to the city and to the demesne beyond. Now, that peace had been shattered by a group of renegades bent on taking the throne and bringing back the dark times.

  Raven kissed the door and continued up the stairs to her own chamber. The room hadn't changed much over the last few months. The antique bed, side table, and vanity her grandmother had left her had been moved to a different position, the curtains had been replaced with even darker ones and between her posters of Casablanca, The Maltese Falcon, Each Dawn I Die and Star Wars, hung framed newspaper clippings such as "Storm and Levac Catch Strangler!", "Storm and Levac Put Mad Dog Crowe Behind Bars!", and "Le Storm Strikes Again, Night Caller Killed in Bloody Gun Duel!". Raven was proud of the work she and Levac had done and she had arranged her room to show off their successes…not that anyone ever saw them. But it was the thought that counted.

  In the private bath she found that Dominique had been true to her word. A steaming bath had been drawn in the antique tub. On the clothes rack hung a pair of black leather leggings, a bright blue tunic sweater, a black belt and a pair of knee high boots, stylish yet comfortable. Fresh magazines for her Automag also lay nearby, along with her badge and purse.

  That woman is a miracle, Raven thought. No wonder mother loves her so much.

  She quickly disrobed and slipped into the bath, letting the warm water wash away the blood and sweat. She finished scrubbing and sat back, trying to ignore the grief at the loss of yet another sister to the crazy war she'd accidentally started with Strohm's death.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later Raven breezed into the d
rawing room, her wet hair pulled into a loose ponytail. As usual, Levac was dressed in his battered, beige trench coat over a grey suit that had been slept in for at least three days. His dark hair was matted to his head and mustard mixed with the five o'clock shadow that covered his chin. He was lounging on a pink settee that was as uncomfortable as it looked and playing some game on his phone. He looked up when Raven entered and smiled. Even through the rain and the mustard, it was a smile that made Raven feel warm inside.

  "Hey partner," he said, standing and offering Raven a lopsided grin. "Took you long enough. I was almost ready for another burger. While you were getting forty winks, Frost assigned us a new case."

  "Hey Rupe," Raven replied. "I'm sorry it took so long. I had to get freshened up. As you can see things have been a little complicated around here. What kind of case do we have?"

  Levac took a deep breath and Raven knew she wasn't going to like what he was going to say. "It's a weird one. A body was found behind the Oriental Theater about two hours ago."

  Raven frowned. "What's so weird about that? It's called Death Alley for a reason. Tourists are found dead out there at least once a month."

  Levac stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. "I don't know. Frost just said you were to 'haul your ass there pronto'. The new lab tech, Aspen Kincaid, is going to meet us at the scene."

  Raven glanced at her watch. "The kid is probably already there. We'd better get going before she does something weird again."

  * * *

  For once Raven declined to drive and let Levac guide his battered, old 1961 Nash Metropolitan through the icy, slushy streets of the city. Levac insisted that the car was a classic. Raven thought it was a rusted piece of junk, one small step from the scrap heap. She'd begged her partner to put the old car out of its misery, but he loved it far too much to surrender it to a junkyard.

  Levac parked just beyond the line of police cruisers and the two detectives climbed out. Levac gathered his evidence kit from the trunk while Raven passed through the crime scene tape, barely acknowledging the uniformed officer who held it up for her. She could smell blood. A lot of blood.

  Beyond the tape was the dark, narrow walkway behind the Oriental Theater known as Death Alley. The street lights had been changed countless times, but they always burned out in a shower of sparks within a few days. The city had given up and now simply left the alley dark, replacing the lights with a warning not to enter the area. Few chose to wander behind the Oriental Theater after dark anyway. Only foolhardy ghost hunters, tourists and the truly desperate walked the 100 meter length of crumbling pavement after sundown.

  Now, however, the alley was as bright as day. Four generators and a dozen work lights had been set up around a crumpled, bloodstained sheet about a third of the way down the walk. A young woman dressed in a lab coat over a purple tartan skirt, a skull tee and fishnets was working around the form, her purple hair trailing down her back in two long plaits. Raven stopped near the young woman and looked down at the sheet-covered blob on the pavement. It didn't look right. For one thing there appeared to be a lot of blood and no head under the sheet.

  "Hi, Aspen, what's the scoop?" she asked.

  Aspen looked up and smiled, looking a lot like a Gothic pixie. "Hi, Detective Storm. We have a dead guy. A really dead guy."

  Aspen pulled the sheet away with a sound like tearing silk. Beneath was the headless body of a man, naked as the day he'd been born. Wounds sewn shut with black thread crisscrossed his body from head to toe. Thick leather cord had been stitched across a seeping wound in his chest, the black line carving out the name Raven Storm.

  Raven squatted next to the body and pulled on a pair of blue gloves.

  "Nice," she said, running her index finger over the wound. "I've never gotten a victim as a love-letter before. Any idea who this guy was?"

  Aspen shook her head and showed Raven the man's fingers; the tip of each had been clipped off with some kind of sheers. Judging by the amount of blood in the torn tissues, he had been alive when it happened.

  "I can't do a quick lift and check the computer. Unless we can find his head or he happens to have a footprint on file, for now he is just a Bob Doe.

  Raven frowned at Aspen. "Bob Doe? Really?"

  Aspen grinned, a gesture that made her look about twelve years old. "I got sick of calling them John all the time. This one is Bob."

  "Okay," Raven said, trying not to laugh. "Any idea where his head might be?"

  "It wasn't with the body," Aspen replied. "He was hanging from a couple of meat hooks driven through his back. My guess is he was pierced while still alive and hung in the suicide position for us to find. Someone wanted to get your attention in a big way."

  "They have my attention all right," Raven muttered. "I swear, just once, just once I want a damn normal case."

  Levac stepped up behind her and patted her shoulder. "You wouldn't know what to do with a regular case. You'd solve it in a day and be all bored."

  Raven rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Rupe. You help Aspen process the body, I'm going to check the alley for anything that will help us identify Bob here and find out what he was doing in Death Alley."

  Levac nodded and squatted next to Aspen, pulling a pair of blue gloves from one of his pockets and littering the pavement with candy wrappers.

  Raven called, "Don't forget to pick those up!" as she continued down the alley, following the sweet, coppery scent of blood.

  She could see where the victim had been hanging. Bob's weight swinging on the ropes had left an indent in the light fixture and there was high-velocity blood spatter on the building opposite. The man's head had probably been taken as he dangled there, in the darkness with his killer, only a few yards from salvation.

  Raven continued deeper into the alley, toward the dark recesses where most people wouldn't dare look for fear of what may be lurking in the darkness. Her sensitive nose first detected the masculine scent of Old Spice, followed by the tangy scents of sweat and fear.

  The dhampyr squatted near the wall of the theater and picked at a plastic bag. The top came open at her prodding and the smell of terror became almost overpowering.

  "Aspen! Get me a light!" she called.

  She could hear the sound of Aspen's boots on the pavement behind her; a moment later a spotlight splashed against the wall and illuminated the bag.

  "Thanks," Raven said, pulling the bag closer.

  She dumped the bag open revealing a pair of men's pants, a silk shirt and a pair of shoes Raven identified as Italian simply by the sole and the curve of the toe.

  "I think we found Bob's clothes," she said, laying them aside.

  Aspen frowned and looked at the pile and the other items drooling out of the bag. "How did you find that? We already combed the alley."

  Raven smiled humorlessly. "This is why I get all the weird ones, kid. I find the clues everyone misses."

  She pulled the clothes closer and let her senses do their work; the man had been terrified, but there was more than that. Cigarette smoke, sweet pine mixed with juniper berries and ginger. There was also the very strong scent of urine and blood, type A positive.

  "Why would this guy smell of pine and juniper berries?" Raven asked the world in general.

  "Dry martini with an olive," Aspen replied without hesitation.

  Raven looked over her shoulder at Aspen, her eyes glowing in the darkness.

  "What?" she asked, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice.

  Aspen looked uncomfortable under Raven's gaze.

  "That's how a good martini smells," she replied. "I'm legal, you know. The girls and I hang down at the Isle of Night every Thursday."

  Raven blinked and looked at Aspen again. She'd always assumed the young intern was somewhere around seventeen. Under the pale makeup, the girl possessed an elven quality that made her seem very young.

  She added a couple years to the kid's age and turned her attention back to the evidence. "Right…so we have a guy hung in Death Alley who we
ars designer clothes. He had been drinking fine martinis and was frightened enough that he peed himself."

  "Well, he could have done that last when he was hung," Aspen said. "The force of the hanging and the decapitation could cause him to void himself."

  "Yeah, but then we would be dealing with dirty diapers," Raven replied. "He would void everything, not just urine."

  Aspen nodded, "yeah, good point, Ray. So what does all this tell you?"

  "Not much," Raven replied in annoyance. "Someone hung a guy on meat hooks and then cut his head off after stitching my name in his chest. The perp is a psycho, but I get that all the time."

  She began going through the man's pockets; she pulled out a wallet, keys, Swiss Army knife and an oddly-shaped ink-pen and laid them on a cloth that Aspen hurriedly placed on the ground next to her. She examined each item, sniffing them gently. The keys smelled of iron and on closer inspection she found that one of the keys was very old, probably dating back to old Chicago, and she could make out a fingerprint on the knife.

  "Aspen, I need everything, especially this key and the knife, dusted for prints," Raven said. "I also need to know if this key matches anything we've come across before or what lock it might go to."

  "Got it, Detective," Aspen replied, gathering the items and bagging each one for processing.

  Raven stood and pulled off her gloves, which she dropped into a spare evidence bag.

  "These have some of his blood and urine on them," she said, laying the bag with the others. "Process his clothes and the gloves and see if there is anything interesting in his fluids. I doubt he was poisoned, considering the high-velocity spatter on the wall, but you never know. You can start by typing his blood as A positive."

  Raven then turned and walked back toward Levac, who had finished tape-lifting the vic.