Stormwind (The Storm Chronicles Book 3) (19 page)

“Looks like no one is home,” Sanchez said. “Let’s try somewhere else.”

Raven glanced at him, her face a mixture of disgust and annoyance. She then kicked the door just below the rusted deadbolt. The doors popped open and smashed against either wall to reveal a small lobby area. Old mailboxes were placed to the left of the doors, an elevator sat to the right and a single glass door led into the building and, presumably the stairs.

“You don’t really do subtle, do you?” Sanchez asked. “Why are we even here? This Cleary guy obviously doesn’t live here.”

“Rule seventeen, Rook,” Raven said. “Rarely does anyone give an address that exists that they haven’t used or where they don’t know anyone. It’s just one of those weird things. People making up a fake address just make up a completely fake address. Cleary was here. I want to know why.”

Raven entered and, out of curiosity pressed the elevator call button. Nothing happened and she moved toward the main door into the building. She tested the handle and the door opened easily at her touch revealing a long dark corridor. She pulled a mini Maglite from her pocket and clicked it on. The powerful beam reflected off of torn wallpaper and urine stained carpet as she shined it around the hallway.

“You take me the nicest places,” Sanchez said, pulling out his own flashlight.

Raven smirked. “Stick with me, kid. This is just the tip of the iceberg.”

She entered the hallway, checking the floor ahead before shining her light on the doors to either side of her. Broken plaster, discarded furniture, alcohol bottles and other debris littered the hall and made walking treacherous. She moved with care, more for Sanchez’s sake than her own, and reached the stairs. She flashed her light up the dark, noisome shaft and started to climb, followed closely by the rookie who kept checking behind them with his own light.

Raven stepped out of the stairwell on the fourth floor where Jacob Cleary supposedly had lived. This floor was cleaner with only a small amount of old plaster on the threadbare carpet. There were also candles burning every nine or ten feet, filling the hallway with a haze of smoky light. Raven looked back at Sanchez who was holding the Sig like it was a lifeline and frowned. No way was he ready for this.

“Do you think you should go call for backup?” she asked.

Sanchez shook his head. “I’ve got your back. Let’s check this out.”

Raven nodded and drew her Automag. It’s weight was a comfortable extension of her hand and she held it in front of her cross-armed with her light. She stopped at apartment 4W and kicked the bottom, her boot making a reasonable knocking sound.

“Jacob Cleary?”

There was no answer, but Raven could hear someone moving around inside. She nodded back at Sanchez and then kicked the door hard, following through into the room, clearing the entrance for Sanchez.

The room beyond was a nightmare of blood. All of the furniture had been pushed back to the far wall leaving only an old surgical table in the middle. A tall man in white coveralls and a mask stood over a half-skinned human male, carefully scraping away with antique tools. He looked up at Raven and all she could see was her light reflected in his glasses.

“Ah, Fürstin Ravenel. I knew you’d find this place eventually.”

“Fürstin? Who are you?” Raven asked.

“Who I am is of no consequence, Fürstin. It is you who matters,” the man replied. “A vampire who can also offer a trophy of flesh and bone? Eliazarr will be most pleased.”

“Yeah, whatever. Drop the knife and put your hands on your head,” Raven said, her Automag pointed at the man’s left eye. “You’re under arrest. Rookie, go call it in.”

“I’m sorry, Detective,” Sanchez said from behind her. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Rook, what are you talking about?” Raven asked, glancing over her shoulder.

She was in time to see Sanchez holding a dart pistol aimed at her rear. She started to turn and the dart caught her in the thigh. She felt the effects immediately and her leg buckled beneath her. She fell to the floor on her side facing Sanchez who squatted next to her.

“Night night, Detective,” Sanchez said with a feral grin. “And good luck.”

Raven raised her Automag and aimed at Sanchez.

Sanchez grinned. “What are you going to do with that, half-breed?”

“Kill you,” Raven replied, her voice weak.

“I don’t think so,” Sanchez said, reaching for the pistol.

Raven gritted her teeth and squeezed the trigger. The bullet passed through Sanchez’s hand and through his skull, splattering the wall behind him with bone and brains.

“He never was very bright,” the doctor said from behind Raven. “One dart for such as you? I can scarcely believe that Tate gave him the task of bringing you to us after you killed Stein.”

Raven felt two more darts enter her rear. The Automag tumbled from her hand and everything went black…

COLD WRACKED RAVEN’S BODY AND made her shiver. Parts of her were numb while other parts were awake and tingling with the after effects of the tranquilizer. She could hear water somewhere in the distance along with screams and groans of pain, but it all sounded very far away. She could also hear and the sound of people breathing somewhere nearby, deep and even as if they were asleep.

A moment later her nose checked in to report the scent of blood. Lots of it, mingled with smoke, sulfur and wet dog.

That brought Raven to full wakefulness and her eyes snapped open to focus on the red stone ceiling some twelve feet above her head. She tried to sit up but the pain in her head made her vision fuzzy and she flopped back to the stone slab she’d been lying on.

“Take it easy, love,” a familiar voice said nearby.

Raven opened her eyes again and looked to the side. A purple-haired young woman who looked more like a pixie than the forensics genius she was sat on the slab next to her. Aspen looked pale and frightened, but she smiled when she saw Raven looking at her.

“Hey you,” Raven said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey,” Aspen replied. “So much for St. Louis, huh?”

“What happened?”

Aspen slipped off her slab to kneel next to Raven. “I don’t know. One minute I’m leaving a place called the Iron Barley next I’m waking up on a slab next to you.”

“How long have I been here?” Raven asked, trying to sit up again and managing a sort of slouch on the edge of the stone.

“I don’t know,” Aspen replied. “It’s been at least a few hours since I woke up, but I don’t know for sure.”

Raven nodded and patted herself down. Her pistol, flashlight and knives were missing. Even her spare magazines and jacket were gone. She was dressed only in her tank tops, jeans and boots. Everything else had been taken.

“Have you seen any of my stuff?”

“No. You were like that when you came in,” Aspen said. “All my stuff is gone too.”

“Marvelous,” Raven said.

She stood on shaky legs and looked around the room. They were in a circular chamber with six stone slabs arranged around a central brazier that was laid but unlit. Four other figures lay on the other slabs, their breathing deep and regular. The only apparent exit was a stone door that Raven guessed weighed close to a ton.

The stone was the red granite native to the area and the walls of the circular chamber had been drawn on with charcoal. Wolves and vampire pictograms covered the walls, apparently telling a story in hieroglyphics that Raven didn’t understand. But she understood enough. They’d been taken by lycans. The pictograms were unmistakable.

“Can you get us some light?” Raven asked.

Aspen nodded and made a gesture at the brazier. The coals glowed for a moment and then burst into flame that snapped and sizzled like a holiday fire. In another place it would have been cheery. The way it made the pictograms dance on the walls just made the room that much more creepifying.

By the red glow of the brazier Raven could see that the other sleeping forms were three men and a woman. The woman was the vampire Evangelina still in daytime slumber. Two of the men Raven recognized as familiars belonging to a low ranking pure blood while the third was Diarmait, the tobacconist from Club Black.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Raven asked.

“Who, Diarmait? I don’t know. He’s a werewolf hunter from England,” Aspen replied.

“He’s a what?”

“A werewolf hunter,” Aspen repeated. “You know, like a lycan Van Helsing.”

Raven frowned and walked around the room to where Diarmait was lying on his slab. He was wearing a camouflaged jumpsuit, face paint and a string of drool that stretched to the floor. Raven looked at him with disgust and slapped him hard. The first impact elicited a groan. The second brought him to wakefulness and he sat up, one hand going to his head.

“Oi, anyone get the number of that bus? Where am I?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Raven replied. “Some kind of lycan burial chamber or something. You’re the lycan guy, you tell me.”

Diarmait looked up at Raven in surprise. “How did you know?”

Aspen leaned around Raven and gave a little wave. “Hiya Josef. Did I mention Raven is my mistress?”

Raven turned and glared at the smaller woman.

“Don’t call me that, Aspen!” she snapped. “You know it isn’t like that.”

Aspen giggled and placed a calming hand on Raven’s arm. “I’m just yanking Josef’s chain, Ray. I know that isn’t our deal. But Jo, I’m Raven’s familiar by choice and by blood. She knows what I know so don’t play silly buggers. Tell us what you recognize about this place.”

“Amy, is that you, girl?” Diarmait asked. “What happened to the Scottish lass I met in Colorado hunting the Cleary brothers?”

“She was just a cover, Jo,” Aspen replied. “My name is Aspen. I’m a witch. But you seem to be missing something really important I just told you. This is Fürstin Ravenel Tempeste, my um…vampiric partner. And she’d really like you to answer my question.”

Raven rolled her eyes at Aspen and looked back at Diarmait who was still shaking off the effects of the tranquilizer. “Well, Diarmait?”

“I knew you was the Fürstin when you came into Club Black like you owned the place,” Diarmait said. “I had no idea my Amy was yours, my apologies.”

“Your Amy?” Raven asked.

She turned and looked at Aspen who blushed and made a study of her chipped purple nail polish. “Yeah…you and I well, we weren’t exactly together and I met Diarmait here and one thing led to another…”

“Och, did it!” Diarmait said with a grin.

“Really? You bumped uglies with this guy?” Raven asked, her eyes turning green.

“Hey! You said it would be best if we spent some time away!” Aspen said.

“I didn’t mean for you to move out of the city or to have sex with some lycan hunter covered in wolf urine!” Raven retorted. “I meant getting a puppy and your own apartment while we sorted things out. Xavier had things all in a freaking tizzy, Rupert was healing and everyone just needed a break from the weird shit!”

“You weren’t that specific, Ray,” Aspen said, her own violet eyes beginning to glow. “I thought, you know, you and Rupe...”

“If I’m in the way I can lay back down until this headache goes away,” Diarmait interrupted.

Raven spun and grabbed Diarmait by his shirt. “Look around and tell me where the hell we are, why and who took us before I drain you to make my own headache go away.”

Diarmait raised his hands in surrender.

“I know where we are. I was looking for it. This is the Blood Temple.”

Raven frowned. “You say that like I should know what it means.”

“If you’d bothered to study your immortal enemies you would,” Diarmait replied.

“I don’t have any immortal enemies. I’m a Chicago cop. My enemies are the scumbags walking the street because our laws have too many holes and our system has too many pudgy corrupt fingers in it,” Raven said.

“I know what it is,” Aspen said. “It’s an ancient temple built by the very first Lycan clan as a place of worship to the Lycan god Eliazarr. Right?”

Diarmait nodded. “Right-o, little purple hair. The very same. Chicago is built on top of it. Well, Chicago is mainly built on Chicago, but first it was built on this temple. Every hundred years the lycans of the First Clan return so the pureblood males can compete to be Alpha.”

“How come I never heard of this?” Raven asked.

“Cause you were probably playing hooky and breaking someone’s head when you should have been studying,” Aspen said.

“I can’t argue with that,” Raven said. “If Dad hadn’t been a cop, I probably would never have gotten on the force. But that doesn’t explain why we’re here or how it’s connected to the three murdered familiars.”

Diarmait opened his mouth to reply when the stone he was laying on suddenly tilted and dropped through the floor. Raven reached for him but he was gone in the blink of an eye. The others followed suit leaving Raven and Aspen standing alone in the chamber. From below they could hear yells of confusion and distant growls.

“They’ll be nothing but meat down there!” Raven said.

She leaned over the edge where Diarmait had disappeared and blinked her vampiric sight into life. She could see Diarmait as a hot red blur. He was moving slowly, one hand on the wall. Another shape was moving toward him from behind. The familiar hunched shape of a lycan preparing to strike.

Raven didn’t wait any longer. She slid down the stone slab and into the darkness. She landed on another hard stone floor using one hand to maintain her balance. She looked up at the lycan with angry green eyes and cracked her knuckles.

“By order of the Totentanz and my authority as Fürstin to Mistress of the City I order you to shift and stand fast,” she snarled.

The lycan roared and lashed out with a clawed hand. Raven ducked the swing and stood, her left fist driving into the lycan’s ribs. Where there should have been the cracking of bones there was only a hard thump that made Raven’s hand ache. The lycan’s backhand caught her across the face and sent her flying into the wall where she fell to the ground stunned. She shook her head and looked up to see the lycan’s claws tear across Diarmait’s chest. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground, warm claret dripping from the wound. The lycan leaned over his victim and howled his victory before reaching for something hanging from the loincloth at his waist.

Raven shook her head and pushed off from the wall, charging the lycan. She crashed into him with all her strength, lifting him off his feet and pushing him away from Diarmait.

The lycan caught himself, his claws digging into the floor. His golden gaze found Raven and he growled a challenge. Raven bared her fangs and snarled back, determined to protect Diarmait.

The lycan launched himself at Raven, his claws whistling through the air as if they were cutting the atmosphere itself. Raven blocked the blow with both arms and spun, her left elbow catching the lycan in the throat followed by her right hand cracking into his jaw and knocking out two of his teeth.

The lycan whimpered in surprise and pain and stepped back; Raven gave no quarter. She followed, spinning kicks at his head and ribs, her final blow sweeping his legs out from under him. As he fell to the floor Raven pounced on top of him, her hands locking around his wrists.

“Shift, dammit and tell me what is going on!” she ordered.

The lycan struggled in her grip and she kneed him in the groin as hard as she could.

“I can keep hitting you or you can shift and explain yourself before I drag your ass in front of the court. It’s up to you,” Raven said.

The lycan resisted a moment longer before shifting beneath her. Raven watched his features collapse and flow on themselves and tried not to lose whatever was left in her stomach. A moment later a young man, perhaps nineteen or twenty with long hair and muscles that would have made Superman hang up his cape lay beneath her.

“We are the First Clan,” he said, spitting blood in Raven’s face. “We do not answer to vampires.”

“Yeah, well you’re the one who shifted when I told you to, kid,” Raven replied. “How ‘bout answering to the law for kidnapping and attempted murder? Tell me what is going on down here!”

“You have been chosen as worthy opponents,” the lycan replied.

“Worthy opponents? For what? Did you kill those three people?” Raven asked. “Were they worthy opponents too?”

“I will say nothing else. You have won,” the lycan said, turning his head. “I am not worthy of Eliazarr’s blessing.”

“You’re going to be worthy of a six by six cell if you don’t cooperate!” Raven growled.

The lycan laughed. “Dhampyr, you know a human cell cannot hold us. You can kill me or the clan will. Either way I am dead.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Raven said. “Not unless I have to.”

She then looked up at the lighted hole in the ceiling where Aspen was looking down at her, concern etched on her face.

“Aspen, can you get down here?” Raven asked.

“Yep, hold on,” Aspen replied.

She slid through the opening and dropped lightly to the floor next to Raven.