Stormwind (The Storm Chronicles Book 3) (10 page)

“Mr. Caito, I was wondering if you would mind answering a few questions for me,” Raven replied.

“Bother me later, I’m in the middle of a date,” Caito replied, waving his hand dismissively.

Raven grabbed Caito’s hand and twisted it behind his back. “I think you’ll talk to me now. Get your ass out of that chair!”

She yanked Caito to his feet, startling the people next to him and pulled him toward the door.

Outside, Raven spun Caito around and pushed him against the wall with one hand. She pulled the knife from his belt and slammed it point first into the brick wall. “Now that I have your attention, I have some questions for you and you’re going to answer them, is that clear or should I write it in crayon?”

“Detective, do you have any idea who I am?” Caito asked, straightening his tie.

“One of DiFronzo’s cockroaches,” Raven replied. “I’m not impressed. Where were you last night?”

Caito shook his head. “If you aren’t afraid of my boss, you’re just as dumb as your father was.”

Raven’s eyes darkened and she wrapped her hand around Caito’s throat. “What do you know about my father?”

“That he was stupid enough to get himself killed for not being afraid of the right people,” Caito replied.

“Did No Nose have my father killed?” Raven growled.

Caito choked as Raven’s hand tightened on his throat. “I…ain’t…saying…anything…”

“Ray! Ray, let go!” Levac called, exiting the club.

Raven let go of Caito, but continued to glare at him, her eyes glowing green.

Levac stepped between the two and looked at Raven. “You can’t question a suspect if you pop his head like a zit!”

Raven took a deep breath, focusing on Levac. “You’re right, Rupe. Let’s call it in and get this clown back to the District. He has some explaining to do.”

Levac was about to reply when Caito’s arm snaked around the detective’s neck, his wrist blade at Levac’s throat. “Sorry, Ms. Storm, I ain’t going to the District, the boss will have my nose, if I’m lucky.”

Caito turned and started backing away, taking Levac with him.

“Mr. Caito, you’re only making this worse,” Levac said. “You’re adding assault of a police officer to your list of charges. Let go of me and we can work this out.”

“Shut up, Columbo!” Caito snarled. “Or I’ll slit your throat and let the detective here grieve over her dead partner.”

“That’s never going to happen, Caito,” Raven said, drawing her Automag. “Let him go and you just might make it through this night alive.”

Caito laughed and kept backing toward a nearby alley. “What are you going to do, shoot Mr. Levac? This isn’t a movie, Detective.”

Raven concentrated and the growing darkness became bright as day. She raised the Automag and aimed at Caito, who was slightly taller than Levac. “I said let him go.”

“Ray, now wait just a second,” Levac said, raising his hands.

“You won’t do it,” Caito said. “I will. I’ll spill this bastard’s blood all over the sidewalk if you don’t drop your gun.”

Raven let out a breath and squeezed the Automag’s trigger. The bullet narrowly missed Levac and punched through Caito’s collarbone like it was old cheese. Bone splintered and he staggered, letting go of Levac, who backed away from Caito and began to feel his shoulder.

“Did you shoot me?” Levac yelled.

Raven grabbed Caito’s unwounded arm. “You should have let him go. Come on, get up!”

Caito growled and slapped Raven’s hand away with surprising strength. He then stood and ran down the alleyway, leaping up onto a fire escape and disappearing into a nearby building.

“Damn,” Raven muttered. “Rupe, you’re fine, stop feeling up your shoulder and keep an eye on Caito’s girlfriend. If she tries to leave before I get back, arrest her. I don’t care if it’s for jaywalking or picking her nose, arrest her!”

Levac stopped checking his shoulder for bullet holes and looked back at Raven. “I can’t believe you shot at me again. Are you trying to kill me?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Stop whining, you’re alive. I’m going after Caito.”

Waving away Levac’s continued protests, she ran down the alleyway after her fleeing suspect. She ran up the first two flights of the fire escape then leapt to the roof. Her feral eyes spotted Caito on the next roof. He was leaning against an air conditioning unit and checking the damage to his collarbone.

Raven ran across the roof and jumped across, rolling when she landed. She was up and running again before the gravel had even settled from her impact. Caito turned when he heard her boots on the pea gravel and he ran, dodging through the air conditioners and exhaust vents before leaping across another alleyway. He skidded, but kept his balance, running toward a large office building on the opposite side of the building. Raven followed, closing the gap between herself and Caito. In seconds she caught up to him and tackled him into an air conditioning unit, their weight denting the cheap aluminum. Caito shook his head and lashed out with a flurry of blows that would have made Jet Li proud. Raven blocked about half of them, ending up with her lip bleeding. Caito hadn’t fared much better. One of Raven’s punches had left him with a broken nose and an eye that was already swelling shut.

“Give up?” Raven asked, wiping blood from her lip.

“Fat chance,” Caito replied.

He ejected a knife from his left sleeve and threw it underhand. It was aimed at Raven’s throat. Her reflexes allowed her to dodge the blade, but only just and she felt it bite deeply into her left bicep.

“Goodnight, Detective,” Caito said.

The injured man turned and ran; at the far side of the roof Caito pulled his shirt over his head and jumped sailing across the wide gap to crash through a window a story below.

Raven pulled the knife from her shoulder, slipped it in a pocket and followed. She stopped at the far side of the roof and watched Caito, apparently uninjured by the fall. He picked himself up dusted himself free of broken glass and continued running.

Who is this guy?
she wondered.

Not about to let a suspect in two homicides get away, Raven took several steps back, ran and jumped. She crashed through a window one floor below Caito and fell flat on her face, pieces of glass tearing at her clothes. She gritted her teeth against the pain and let her heritage do its work; she was up and running even as her wounds started to heal. She kicked open a nearby fire door and took the steps two at a time, coming out on the second floor. She jogged down the hallway and onto a balcony that overlooked the first floor lobby. Below her, Caito was exiting the main stairs and walking casually toward the doors, his jacket over his wounded arm. Raven vaulted the railing and dove, driving Caito face first into the stone-effect tile. He squirmed beneath her so she grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face into the ground twice more, knocking him unconscious with the third blow.

She sat on his back and held her head, feeling faint. Several people came forward asking questions. Through the haze she barely noticed them, doing little but flipping out her badge.

“You have the right to remain unconscious,” she said. “If you say anything while unconscious it can be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. I’m sure your scumsucking boss will get you a good one, but if you cannot afford an attorney I will get someone who will screw you nine ways to Sunday…”

“What are you doing, Detective?” one of the onlookers asked.

Raven looked up at the woman and wiped another tickle of blood from a cut in her lip that was refusing to heal. “I’m reading this guy his rights.”

The short brunette looked confused. “But isn’t he unconscious?”

Raven nodded and patted the back of Caito’s head. “I certainly hope so. Don’t worry. He’ll be mirandized again after his nap. Besides, he already knows his rights, this guy has a sheet as long as your leg.”

Just then Levac charged in with two patrolmen behind him. “Nobody move!”

“Marvelous,” Raven said as the crowd around her put up their hands. She stood and walked through the crowd to where Levac and the patrolmen were standing in some confusion. She pointed at the two patrolmen and jerked a thumb at Caito’s unconscious form. “You two get that piece of trash out of his crater and book him for assault, resisting arrest, and pissing me off to no end.”

The three officers holstered their weapons and the two patrolmen left to do as Raven had said. Levac looked Raven over and opened his mouth. Raven cut him off.

“No, I’m not okay, yes I’m bleeding, yes I need a drink and you were right on time. I think the crowd was getting unruly. They could have rioted at any second and buried me in business cards,” she said. “Please make sure Caito gets read his rights when he wakes up and catch a ride with the blue boys, I’m going home. I’ve had enough for one day.”

AN HOUR LATER, RAVEN LAY in her antique tub surrounded by the soft glow of sweet cream and vanilla scented candles. Dominique had prepared a cocktail of claret and Moscato wine that Raven found almost tolerable; she sipped at the mix and felt her strength returning. Levac had called ten minutes before to confirm that Caito was being held on a one million dollar bond which pretty much ensured that he would be there for questioning in the morning. It was unlikely No Nose would cough up a million dollars in cash for a low-level enforcer, even if the guy could run like a scared rabbit.

She sank back into the warm sudsy water and finished her drink, trying not to gag on the cloying taste of blood at the bottom of the goblet. When she was through she set the goblet aside and stared at the ceiling. Caito had mentioned her father and implied No Nose had something to do with his murder. There had been no leads in his death and it had been filed as unsolved. If Caito or No Nose knew something, Raven intended to find out what it was no matter the cost. It was odd, though. How would Caito know if he just joined the family? Something just wasn’t adding up.

She sighed and closed her eyes, feeling sleep approaching. She was just starting to float in a pleasant half-asleep state when someone knocked on the door.

“Miss Ravenel?” Dominique called.

Raven sat up in the tub. “Yes, Dominique?”

“Your mother needs your assistance.”

Raven rolled her eyes and climbed from the tub. “I’m coming, what’s wrong?”

“One of your sire’s followers is making an official challenge for the throne,” Dominique replied.

Raven dried off quickly and pulled her hair into a ponytail. When she opened the door Dominique was holding leather pants, a bustier, jacket, boots and a sword.

“What’s the hell is the sword for? Get my Automag.”

Dominique looked down. “I’m sorry, Ravenel. The challenger demanded trial by sword.”

“Swell,” Raven snarled. “What idiot is challenging her, anyway?”

“Astaroth Brinley,” Dominique said, helping Raven dress. “He is seconded by Francois Du Guerre.”

Raven glared at the wall and finished getting dressed. A few minutes later she hurried down the stairs after Dominique, the heels of her boots almost silent on the hardwood steps. She followed her mother’s familiar into the ballroom, which was being cleared of furniture, and stopped next to Valentina who was sitting primly on her throne, legs crossed at the knee, a glass of claret in one hand. She raised an eyebrow at Raven, but otherwise didn’t speak.

“What the hell is going on?” Raven asked in a whisper.

Valentina didn’t look up. “It would seem Astaroth and Lord Du Guerre believe I am unfit to be the Mistress of the City; several vampires and familiars have recently gone missing, an issue they believe is my responsibility. They have therefore placed a formal challenge. And you are late.”

Raven’s eyes glowed and she leaned closer to her mother, her voice pitched low. “There is no court tonight, Mother. I agreed I would be here for court, I never agreed to be here twenty-four seven.”

Valentina frowned. “These are your people, my daughter. I expect my Fürstin to be by my side every evening.”

“Then find another Fürstin, Mother. Or learn to fight,” Raven replied. “I’m trying to get a life.”

She turned away and strode across the ballroom to where Astaroth and Du Guerre were standing. Astaroth, a tall man with silver hair and a full beard was dressed in black pants and a medieval jerkin over a blousy white shirt. A Scottish sword was sheathed at his hip. A step behind him stood Francois Du Guerre dressed in black leather, a katana held in one hand like a cane. Raven stopped in front of them, anger etched in her face.

“Francois, what are you doing with this bottom-feeding troll?” she asked, ignoring Astaroth.

“I beg your pardon?” Astaroth asked.

“Shut up,” Raven ordered, meeting Astaroth’s eyes. She then turned back to Francois.  “Well? Are you helping Strohm again? Cause last time I checked, my sire was a skull pinned to a stone with a sword you gave me.”

“Astaroth asked me to be his second, Ravenel,” Francois replied in even tones. “I accepted. It is that simple.”

Raven shook her head. “It’s never that simple with you and you aren’t this stupid. You always have an ulterior motive.”

Francois simply stared. Raven stared back for a beat before turning to Astaroth.