Aspen (5 page)

The doors opened and Aspen stepped out into the main lobby. It was a huge room with one wall made up entirely of tinted windows that looked out over the garden and provided a view of the not so distant Arch. Burgundy sofas and white tables were arranged on a variety of expensive-looking rugs to form semi-private sitting and meeting areas in front of the windows and a baby grand sat at the end. A pianist was seated at the keys, playing softly and bidding goodbye to guests on their way to the airport.

On the opposite side of the room was a long counter of wood covered in black and white lacquer. Three clerks worked at discretely hidden computers, helping guests with their bills and offering directions to local sights. Aspen shouldered the bags and moved across the lobby to the desk, trying to act as if she belonged there. When she reached the counter she held out her credentials, which said she was the Chicago police.

“Good morning, my name is Aspen Kincaid, I’m a forensic tech on loan to St. Louis police. I need to look at last night’s surveillance footage of the lobby, please,” she said.

The clerk, a young man with a shock of blond-dyed hair that didn’t match his eyebrows and a prominent Adam’s apple arched an eyebrow at the credentials. “What does this pertain to?”

Aspen took her credentials back. “A case I am helping with. I’m sorry, I can’t really tell you anything else. Is there a security guard I can talk to?”

The clerk reached for the handset beneath the counter. “One moment, let me call him.”

He busied himself with the phone and Aspen tried to look bored. Jynx leaned against the counter beside her. “Whatcha doin?”

“Asking to see the security footage from last night,” Aspen replied.

Jynx popped her gum again. “And you hope to find…”

Aspen shrugged. “Something helpful.”

The clerk finished his hushed conversation and smiled. “The security manager will be with you in a moment. Have a seat.”

He pointed at a nearby seating area with his pen and turned to help the next customer. Aspen dropped onto one of the couches and began rummaging through Martel’s bag. Jynx, however, turned away. Aspen could only assume she was following the sign that said ‘breakfast’.

Aspen pulled one of the video cameras from the bag. It was an ultramodern design from a company named Iticce, complete with night vision setting and the capability of streaming to a pc or other device via Bluetooth. The controls were more complicated than they needed to be, but after a moment she was able to bring up the last recording. It showed Martel via night vision. It was tough to see what was behind him, but based on the angles, Aspen thought it was his bedroom within the hotel.

“It’s been five days since Devil’s Lake. As you can see, I’m still getting weaker.”

On the small screen, he opened his shirt to show his ribs and emaciated abdomen. “A week ago you couldn’t see my ribs. I had a six pack, I’ve had it since the Marines, but now it is gone. I don’t know what’s happening to me, maybe this Deòrsa Vlašić will have some answers. I meet with him in the morning.”

The recording ended with him turning off the camera and was followed by the date and time stamp which indicated he’d taken the recording early in the morning yesterday, presumably before meeting Deòrsa Vlašić, whoever that was.

Aspen was still searching through the footage when a portly gentleman with a ruddy complexion and close-cropped, red hair joined her and extended a hand in greeting.

“Good morning, Detective Kincaid. I’m John Larsen, security manager here at the Four Seasons. What can I do for you?”

Aspen stood and shook the offered hand. She hadn’t said she was a detective, but if it got her foot in the door, it was worth playing along. She’d seen Raven do it enough times to know what was expected.

“Thank you for seeing me. I am working on a case and I think my suspect might have been in your lobby last night. Is it possible for me to get a look at your surveillance footage of the lobby?” she asked.

Larsen smiled. “Of course, we are always happy to help the authorities. Come this way, please.”

Aspen grabbed her bags and followed him through a side door into the employee area behind the lobby. They stopped in front of a door marked Security and he pressed a five digit code into the keypad beside it. The door buzzed and he ushered Aspen through into a modern-looking security office. A female technician with dusky skin and the blackest hair Aspen had ever seen sat behind a desk, her eyes glued on the bank of cameras in front of her. She stood when Larsen entered and smiled at Aspen.

“Ricki said you were looking for footage from the lobby,” she said. “I’ve got it all cued up for you. With your permission, Mr. Larsen?”

“Of course, Zaira. I will leave you to it, I’m late for a meeting.”

Larsen nodded at Aspen and stepped back into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Aspen set her gear down and joined Zaira behind the desk. Zaira pressed some keys on her console and the video began playing on four monitors.

“I can show you the main lobby, stairs, elevators or the registration desk,” she said.

Aspen frowned. “Show me the stairs and elevators, please.”

“Yes ma’am,” Zaira said.

Her long fingers danced on the controls and the footage rearranged itself onto the largest of the monitors. The feed showed the door to the main stairs and the bank of elevators, both of which were about as interesting as watching paint dry on a wet day. Guests came and went, none looking familiar or even particularly interesting. Aspen was about to give up when the deceased man and woman entered the frame, dressed exactly as Aspen had found them. They stopped in front of the elevators, waited, and then stepped aboard. A moment later, a lone man entered the stairs. He was dressed in a black suit and had black hair parted on the left. He paused at the stairs and looked over his shoulder as if looking to see if he was observed, then entered the stairwell.

“Bring up the third floor stairs at around the same time as this,” Aspen said.

Zaira looked as if she was about to burst from excitement. She grinned and touched another series of controls. The stairway camera popped up on another screen and she fast-forwarded to the same time period.

“I’m guessing you’ve never done anything like this, have you? Review and examine footage?” Aspen asked.

Zaira shook her head. “No, ma’am. I usually just sit and watch, this is the most excitement I’ve had at this job.”

Aspen opened her mouth to thank her, but her eye was drawn to a flash on the screen.

“Play that back and slow it down,” she said.

Zaira complied. On the screen was the black-suited man, just stepping through the stairwell door onto the third floor. The flash Aspen had seen was his eyes. When he looked past the camera, his eyes flickered, just long enough to register on the screen. He then turned toward room 343 and walked out of view.

“What was that?” Zaira asked.

Aspen shook her head. “I don’t know. Can you save that to a drive for me?”

Zaira plucked a memory card from a case in front of her and saved the footage. When it was done she turned and handed it to Aspen.

“That was the coolest thing! Was it a glitch or something?”

Aspen put the card in her pocket. “Probably. I’m more interested in his face than a camera glitch. Thank you for your help.”

Zaira leaned back in her chair. “Any time, detective.”

Aspen gathered her gear and retraced her route to the lobby, where she found Jynx lounging on a sofa with one leg draped over the back. She was nibbling on a bagel and flipping through some kind of gun magazine.

“Comfortable?” Aspen asked.

Jynx sat up and tossed her magazine aside. “Not really, these sofas are harder than concrete. The cute clerk said you were looking at security footage, did you find anything?”

Aspen held up the memory card. “Maybe. I need to do some research before it’s conclusive. Can I hitch a ride back to Smokin’ Guns?”

Jynx tossed her gum into a trash bin and fished a new piece out of her jeans. She noticed Aspen watching and shrugged. “I’m trying to quit smoking, but so far, I’m an epic fail. Come on, let’s get out of here, the atmosphere is boring me.”

Once on the road, Aspen pulled a notebook from her bag and began flipping through the dog-eared pages. “Have you ever heard of anything that has silver eyes on video? Eyes that kind of flicker?”

Jynx chewed her lip as she thought. “Pipe and I aren’t really good with technology, we do things the old-fashioned way. From what I’ve heard, it might be a shifter, maybe a skin-walker or something.”

Aspen shook her head. “It’s not a skin-walker, they tend to rip people into tiny pieces not drain their life-force. This is something different, something I haven’t seen before.”

“What are you going to do next?” Jynx asked.

Aspen looked at her. “Don’t tell me you’re getting interested in the case.”

Jynx stared out the windshield. “No. Maybe. I dunno, I’m curious, okay? Maybe it’s a critter after all, something different.”

“If you want to tag along later, I could sure use your help. I’m not much of a hunter.”

Jynx guided the Charger to a stop outside Smokin’ Guns and Aspen climbed out. She slammed the door behind her and leaned down to look through the window at Jynx.

“Are you coming back?”

“I dunno. It depends on Piper and if she’s well enough to move on. What about you?” Jynx asked.

Aspen hefted Martel’s gear bag. “I’m going to sort through this mess and see if I can find any leads. He has hours of footage, there has to be something useful in there.”

Jynx chewed her gum like it had offended her. “Okay. I’ll check in with you after visiting hours either way. The least I can do is say goodbye to you and Creek.”

Aspen stepped back and watched the black Charger rumble away. When it was gone, she returned to her room and began sorting through everything she’d collected from Martel’s hotel room. Most of the equipment had been cleaned and the memory wiped before being put away, but other items showed they had been recently used and not put away with the same care. Two of the video cameras, including the one she’d already examined and an audio recorder were set aside while the rest went back into the bag.

She spent the next few hours sorting through a collection of SD cards and audio recordings. Most of the data had been uploaded to a laptop that wasn’t present with the rest of his gear, but there was enough for Aspen to get the gist. Martel had been a paranormal investigator who liked to debunk haunted sites, which was enough to get him put on a variety of hit lists. Odd though it sounded, while preternaturals didn’t want the world at large to know of their existence, they also didn’t appreciate humans coming along and telling the world they were fairy stories. More than a few of television’s finest paranormal investigators had received attention from an angry Master or Mistress and found their careers swirling down the toilet.

From what she could glean, Martel’s last investigation had been to Devil’s Lake, an abandoned town in northern Missouri. Rumor was that the town had been abandoned in the sixties because it was haunted by an unknown force that kidnapped people in the middle of the night. Those taken were never seen again. Martel and his team had gone to Devil’s Lake about two weeks ago to do an investigation and debunk what Martel called “Ridiculous superstition.” Two weeks later, he was dead and most of his team was missing.

According to his records, he’d come to St Louis to meet with someone named Deòrsa Vlašić about what he’d found in Devil’s Lake, but nowhere had he documented what, exactly, he’d found or wanted to discuss. Maybe this Deòrsa Vlašić had some clue as to why he wanted to meet.

Aspen jotted the name down in her notebook for later investigation and stuffed the rest of the evidence into her bag. She had a friend down at the state lab who might be able to help shed some light on the gook under Martel’s fingernails and the footage she’d found, some of which was so dark as to be unwatchable. She was on her way to the diner to ask for a ride when Creek caught up with her at the diner’s back door. He’d put on a pair of overalls and donned work boots that had been new when Roosevelt was in office, but his lanky arms were still bare. Creek’s thick skin seemed impervious to burning grease and oil.

“Ye got some vis’tors,” he said.

He nodded meaningfully at the front of the diner, where a black SUV was parked. As if on cue, the rear passenger window rolled down and a long-nailed hand waved a black handkerchief.

“Who is it?” Aspen asked.

Creek looked unhappy. “Th’ Mistress. She wants t’ see ya.”

Aspen patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, Creek, I’ll take care of it.”

She took out her tablet and handed him her bag. “Put this behind the counter please? I’ll be back to get it in a bit.”

Creek held the bag as if it was weightless. “O’course. Be careful, ‘spen.”

Aspen smiled with more confidence than she felt, slipped her tablet into her jacket’s pocket and moved to the SUV. The passenger window was still down and she could see a tall, attractive woman with platinum blonde hair and doll-like eyes. She was wearing a Gothic Lolita dress complete with top hat and platform boots that must have added six inches to her height.

“Ah, Aspen Tempeste, so good to make your acquaintance,” she said.

Her voice had a forced breathiness that made Aspen want to slap her.

“And you are?” she asked.

The woman smiled and inclined her head slightly. “I am Rowan, Lady Blackwood’s familiar. She asks you accompany me to the Manor so she may greet you properly.”

Aspen shook her head. “I’m not here—”

“On house business,” Rowan finished. “Yes, Bruno told me. Regardless, you are here and should speak with the Mistress. Please, don’t force me to detain you.”

“Now I know why traveling always pisses Raven off,” Aspen muttered.

She gave Rowan a slight bow and the front passenger door opened. She climbed inside the big SUV and wished, not for the first time, that Raven were here.

CHAPTER FOUR

Millennium Park, Chicago, IL, 9:00 a.m.

Raven Storm pounded down the sidewalk, her flaming red hair streaming behind her like a super hero’s cape. She dodged around early morning joggers and past people walking dogs so small they could be mistaken for leashed squirrels in her pursuit of a middle-aged man in a flapping black jacket and black leather pants that almost matched her own. She was dressed in a blue silk tank top, black jacket and leather pants tucked into knee-high boots that held her silver knives securely against her calves. Her silvered pistol, an antique Automag III that fired the .30 carbine round, was clenched in her hand and her badge banged against her chest with every step.

“Freeze, police! Dammit, freeze means stop!” she yelled.

The man didn’t slow. He leapt over the hedge at the end of the walk and vanished into the next courtyard. Raven followed, easily clearing the hedge to land in a grassy courtyard surrounded by high hedges and protected by the worst of the sun by tall, shady trees. It smelled of fresh cut grass and cedar bark.

The man, who bore the unlikely moniker Bailey Thatcher, had stopped and was now standing with a group of similarly clad men beneath an old oak tree. The leader, an older man with greying hair and a scar that pulled his right cheek into a frown stepped forward and held up a hand.

“Lady Tempeste, a word, if you please,” he said.

Raven stopped and held up her badge. “Raven Storm, Chicago Police. Your friend there is wanted for questioning in the murder of Nina Starr. Step away!”

“Nina Starr was a criminal, Lady Tempeste. She was dealt with in accordance with our justice, and it is justice that we seek. Tell me, where is Aspen-Fyre?” he asked.

Raven frowned. “Look, pal, I’m the one with the badge, I’m the one who gets to ask the questions. Who are you and what do you know about the death of Nina Starr?”

The man shook his head. “You do not seem to understand, Lady Tempeste. Your badge holds no authority over us, nor is Nina Starr any of your concern. Where is Aspen-Fyre, child of Willow? We know you have taken her in.”

Raven stepped forward and glared at the leader. “I’m not going to argue with you. Either you answer my questions or I drag you down to the station and book you for annoying me after a long stake-out of a not so nice diner. I think I have food poisoning just from looking.”

The man held her gaze a moment then bowed. “As you wish. We are the Gallowglass, keepers of the law. Nina Starr was a wanted criminal, the man you know as Bailey is her lawbringer and executioner.”

“Never heard of you. In this city, the police and the courts are the keepers of the law, not you,” Raven said.

The leader smiled again. “Even if the villain is something other than human?”

Raven thumbed back the hammer on her pistol. “Then it’s me, by the authority granted by the Mistress of the City. It sure as hell isn’t a bunch of vigilantes in matching uniforms. As far as I know, Nina Starr was human and was shot in cold blood by your friend there. He is under arrest, as are you if you get in my way.”

The leader cocked his head. “You are not what I expected, Ravenel Tempeste. I had heard that you valued justice—”

“Killing a woman walking home from work is not justice, it’s murder. Final warning, move or be arrested,” Raven grated.

The leader shrugged. “I cannot let you take one of my men and subject them to human laws. Do not force us to defend him.”

His hand moved toward the weapon at his waistband and Raven covered his nose with the barrel of her pistol. “I don’t think you want to do that. Put your hands on your head and be still. The rest of you, kneel and put your hands on your heads.”

The leader paused, then nodded once at his men. “
Ti ya’ amame!
Do as she says.”

Raven waited until they were all on their knees then stepped back to dial Levac and call in the cavalry. In that split second the Gallowglass were up and had pistols in hand. By the way they were standing, Raven knew they were more than capable of using them.

The leader smiled, a cocksure gesture that Raven wanted to punch. “Surrender, Lady Tempeste, and tell us where Aspen-Fyre is. You need not die today.”

Raven held her pistol, but lowered her phone. “What do you want with Aspen?”

The leader shook his head. “That is our concern, not yours. Where can I find her?”

Raven felt her anger and blood boiling but kept her face neutral. “Aspen is my friend and familiar. Anything about her is my concern. Even if I knew where she was, I wouldn’t tell you. If you lower your weapons and surrender I promise your jail cell will have the hardest beds in the city.”

The leader shook his head sadly. “Your reputation precedes you, Lady Tempeste, but I think you are braver than you are capable. I did not wish to do this, but…”

He nodded at his men and Raven blinked. Her monster roared in her head and she moved, dodging the first shots unleashed by the Gallowglass and raising her own weapon. She shot two through the forehead and rolled to relative safety behind the very tree that had been sheltering them from the sun. The corpses smoked and exploded into sparks that fell around her like glimmering snowflakes, an effect that made Raven’s skin crawl. Death shouldn’t be pretty.

Bullets tore at the tree and at Raven’s jacket, making her wince in pain, but she held her ground. The Automag barked in response and another of the Gallowglass fell, clutching at the wound in his chest before fading away on the wind.

“There’s only two of you left,” Raven called. “You and Bailey. Lay down your weapons and surrender.”

“Impressive, Lady Tempeste. More impressive than I expected, in fact,” he said.

There was a strange noise, like bubblegum popping, and the leader appeared behind her. Raven spun in surprise and his hand closed around her wrist with more strength than she’d have thought such a lithe figure could hold.

“But you cannot defeat us. Tell me where Aspen-Fyre is and I will spare you,” he snapped.

Raven winced in pain and dropped her pistol as the bones in her wrist cracked and splintered beneath his grip.

“That’s some grip you’ve got there. I bet you go through a lot of stress balls, huh?”

The leader’s lip curled in disgust and he leaned close enough Raven could see the spinach stuck in his teeth. “Your bravado is wearing, dhampyr. Where. Is. Aspen-Fyre!”

He punctuated each word with a squeeze to her injured wrist and Raven knew the bones were pulped beyond uselessness. But she’d faced tougher things than a bunch of thugs in matching jackets. She rammed her forehead into his face as hard as she could, then raised her knee into his groin with enough force to pulp his genitals and make him vomit in pain. He let go and fell to his knees, both hands clamped to his crotch. She kicked him in the face for good measure then picked up her weapon and held it in a left-handed grip. She was turning to look for Bailey when she heard the thud of his pistol and felt the heat of a bullet pass through her thigh. She fell to the ground beside the leader and lay still, her weapon hidden by her body. She could hear Bailey moving closer and lay quiet.

“Alfrigg, are you all right?” he asked.

Raven rolled and leveled her pistol at him. “He’s better than you’re going to be if you don’t drop that weapon.”

Bailey raised his weapon and Raven squeezed her pistol’s trigger. It bucked in her hand and she watched the bullet punch through his face a split second before he exploded and showered her with sparks.

When it was over, she lay back on the grass and let her body heal. She could hear sirens and knew the cavalry was coming.

She opened her eyes a few minutes later to see Rupert Levac standing over her, weapon in hand. As usual, he had a three days’ growth of beard on his chin, mustard on his tie and was huddled in his threadbare London trench coat that smelled of cheeseburgers, but she was happy to see him nonetheless.

“You missed the fun,” she said.

Levac holstered his pistol. “You didn’t call for backup. Again.”

Raven sat up and looked at the wound in her thigh. It had stopped bleeding and was beginning to heal, which meant she would need claret in the near future. “I tried to call, this bastard wouldn’t let me.”

Levac squatted beside the recumbent figure. “Who is this bastard and where, exactly, is our suspect?”

Raven jerked a thumb at the tree. “Our suspect is that pile of ash by the tree. This bastard is the guy who told him to kill Nina Starr and, incidentally, to harass me and hunt Aspen.”

Levac made a face. “They weren’t vampires though, so what were they?”

Raven shook her head. “No clue. Some sort of sorcerers, I would guess. This one full-on teleported behind me and turned my wrist into jelly with one hand.”

Levac looked at her. “What, like…teleported, teleported? Comic book style? Isn’t that impossible?”

Raven shrugged. “I can only tell you what I saw. Maybe it was his day to do something impossible. Either way, I doubt it is safe to put him in lock-up with the other scumbags. Maybe Mom has a nice holding cell we can toss him into.”

“Alas, you will not get that chance, Fürstin Ravenel.”

Alfrigg sat up with blood streaming from his nose, mouth and ruined eye socket. “I cannot let myself be taken.”

Raven was a shade too slow. She hadn’t noticed the blade he’d had sheathed at his waist. In a swift movement he drew the blade and rammed it into his heart. He smiled as if he’d been kissed and exploded into a shower of sparks that fell to the ground into a pile of white ash.

Raven looked at the pile in disgust. “Swell.”

II

Blackwood Estate, Portland Plaza, St Louis: 10:00 a.m.

Aspen leaned against the SUV’s door and tried to keep her heart from jackhammering in her chest. The only other time she’d met a Master vampire without Raven, she’d ended up the vampire’s pet mage. Xavier hadn’t been a kind master and it had taken all of her magik just to keep him from invading her mind whenever he wanted. It was an experience she didn’t want to repeat. She would die before she would let that happen again.

She closed her eyes and summoned up her power. It was harder than it had been as a child. Her connection to the Faewild was weak, she hadn’t been back in years, and she was out of Faerie dust, the magikal component that supercharged her abilities. She was still a powerful mage, however, and she’d learned to tap human magik through Wicca. Now she let that power flow through her, warm her. It was comforting to feel it coursing through her skin.

She straightened in her seat, feeling braver with every moment. But something was different, there was an edge to her magik that she hadn’t felt before. Something less controlled and far more primal than Faerie magik. When she tugged at it, it disappeared, then came back, like a shadow seen from the corner of her eye. With effort, she caught the thread and held on tight. The power that flowed through the thread was raw, electric, and it warmed her in a way nothing ever had.

“We are here, Faramo Tempeste,” Rowan said.

Aspen opened her eyes and looked out at a huge Romanesque mansion made of grey stone. Smoke drooled from the two chimneys placed in the middle of the structure and slithered down the burnt-orange roof to vanish behind the building. The SUV entered the circular drive and stopped before an arched doorway. Two men stepped out of the arch to open the doors and offer parasols to the occupants, who stood in their shade for the short walk to the door. Aspen followed Rowan through the archway and into a massive white-tiled foyer. Open doorways lead to the left and right while a wide antique staircase twisted upward to the second floor. The house was quiet, not surprising for early morning at a vampire estate, with only a handful of servants bustling about dusting and cleaning. They wore slippers and moved with such fear and care that Aspen felt sorry for them. Not even Valentina was that harsh.

“This way, Faramo Tempeste,” Rowan said. Her voice was so hushed that Aspen almost didn’t hear her.

They moved through another doorway where Rowan unlocked a heavy oak door into a stairwell that descended beneath the house. Aspen looked at the stairs and knew she had no interest in going down them. Whoever…whatever…was down there was pure evil.

“I’m fine up here, thanks. If the Mistress isn’t up I can come back later,” she said.

Rowan smiled, a gesture that looked odd on her narrow face. “Come now, Faramo Tempeste. You are a member of the House, no harm will come to you.”

Aspen frowned and looked back at the stairs, which were made of some old wood, polished smooth and shiny with use. She could feel the new magik coursing through her, but she’d never used it before. She didn’t know what would happen if she had to call upon it. On the other hand, if she didn’t go they would either try to force her, or brand her and the House as cowards.

She forced a smile and made an ‘after you’ gesture to Rowan, who smiled back and began to descend. Aspen followed, letting one hand trail over the smooth wooden wall, which soon became native stone. At the bottom of the stairs was a portcullis manned by the lycan Rowan had called Bruno. He bowed deeply and smiled.