Storm (The Storm Chronicles Book 6) (6 page)

Sable shrugged. “Never bothered me, before.”

Levac turned away. “I did refer to people.”

He felt Sable’s hand clamp around his arm and he stopped.

“What did you just say?” Sable asked.

Levac knew what he would see when he turned. For once, he tugged on the string connecting him to Raven and let her power flow through him. It felt warm, like an old blanket.

“You heard me, Sable,” he said. “This isn’t going to be a pissing contest. Raven is my partner, my friend and I am her familiar. You will treat her with respect.”

Sable’s eyes were full of fury and anger for a moment longer, then softened. “I’m impressed, Rupert. Not many humans would stand up to someone like me.”

Levac’s gaze didn’t flinch. He could feel Raven like she was standing over his shoulder. “When you’ve been Raven Storm’s partner, not much frightens you, least of all someone who looks just like her. Are we good?”

Sable smiled. “Yeah. I’m kind of glad you stood up for her.” She brushed past him and continued down the hall. “Sis could use a good friend.”

Levac nodded and followed after Sable. At the end of the hall she spun. If Levac hadn’t been connected to Raven, he wouldn’t have seen it. He caught her hand inches from his nose.

“Don’t make a habit of fighting me, though. Dad’s temper runs in the family,” Sable growled.

“So I see. Maybe we can get you all a table at IHOP.”

Sable blinked and she looked confused. “What?”

Levac let go of her hand and shrugged. “It’s where I go when I’m angry. Fresh and Fruity solves everything.”

“You are a strange man, Rupert,” Sable said.

Levac walked past her, his hand in a fist so it wouldn’t shake. “That’s what Raven keeps telling me.”

He knocked on Sandoval’s door and waited, rocking on his toes. Sable leaned against the wall next to him. He could feel her staring at his ear. The door opened a moment later and a young man looked out. He most definitely wasn’t Brian Sandoval.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Levac flashed his credentials. “FBI, we would like to talk to Mr. Sandoval.”

“He doesn’t usually see visitors—”

“Enough!” Sable growled.

She pushed past Levac and shoved the door open. “Move! What part of FBI didn’t you understand?”

The young man, who was dressed as an orderly and had brown hair that flopped over one eye, fell back onto his butt, a look of astonishment on his face.

“You can’t just come in here, you need a writ or warrant or something! I watch television!” he said.

Sable picked him up by his shirt. “Where is Sandoval?”

Levac put his hand on her arm. “Put him down, Agent Tempeste! This isn’t how we do things!”

She glared at him, but let the young man go. He straightened his shirt and pulled himself to his full height, which wasn’t impressive.

“That was uncalled for, I am just trying to protect my client!”

Levac raised his hands. “I know, and I’m sorry, my partner is having a rough morning. Can we speak with Mr. Sandoval, please?”

“He’s in the back.”

The orderly turned and led them through the small apartment to the back room, which looked more lived in than the rest, with artwork dating back to the 1940s. The television, though an old tube-style unit, was in perfect working order and softly playing a Clark Gable movie. Beside it was a queen-sized bed, neatly made with Marine corners and a bedstand with what looked like a funeral urn on top.

Sandoval sat in a wheelchair dressed in a blue shirt and dark slacks. He was looking out at the city beyond when Levac entered.

“Mr. Sandoval,” the orderly said. “These are agents Levac and Tempeste, here to see you.”

Sandoval turned. His face was clean-shaven and hard, with steel eyes that peered out from beneath heavy brows. He didn’t look like a man in his nineties. “I don’t take visitors.”

“Mr. Sandoval, my name is Rupert Levac, I’m with the FBI. This is Sable Tempeste—”

“You don’t look like any FBI suit I ever saw. Especially the woman. What kind of name is Sable?” Sandoval groused.

“It’s an old Scottish name, meaning black,” Sable said. “What kind of name is Brian?”

Sandoval glanced at her. “A strong one.”

He looked back at Levac. “What do you want?”

“We’re here about the Saylor case you worked on in 1939, we have a few questions.”

“Damn, boy, that was seventy five years ago!” Sandoval said.

Levac nodded and pulled out his notepad. “I understand that, sir. But the murder is unsolved and the case has been reopened.”

Sandoval looked back out the window. “I was just a wet behind the ears kid, only got promoted because half the force enlisted. I couldn’t, not with a bum ticker.”

“Mr. Sandoval, what can you tell us about the case? You were at the crime scene within hours of the kill,” Sable said.

“It wasn’t a suicide. They made us treat it like one, but it wasn’t. Nobody offs himself by opening his throat and spraying the wall with blood. Biggest mess I saw till 1946. Now that was a case. I was partnered with Storm back then.”

Levac blinked. “Storm?”

Sandoval nodded. “Yeah. Old ‘Big Mack’ Storm. Killed in a car wreck back in the ‘60s. What did you want again?”

“The Saylor case,” Sable said. “Come on, old man, just tell us what you know!”

Levac made a face. “Agent Tempeste, can I have a moment?”

He took her elbow and pulled her aside. “That isn’t how this is done, okay? Just let me do this. You stand there looking all menacing and I will ask the questions.”

“He knows something, Rupert, he’s wasting time,” Sable said.

Levac rolled his eyes. “Of course he knows something, and we need to know and we aren’t hauling a geriatric into interrogation. So let me do this, please?”

“Fine. But make it quick or I’m going to start snapping his gnarly old fingers,” Sable replied.

Levac had no doubt she would. She might have Raven’s face and voice, but she wasn’t Raven. “Just, wait outside, okay?”

Sable frowned, but nodded and turned to the exit. Levac waited until she was in the next room then looked back at Sandoval.

“I’m sorry about that, sir.”

Sandoval frowned. “New partner?”

Levac shook his head. “Temporary. My partner, Raven, is on medical leave.”

A shadow of something crossed Sandoval’s face. “Raven…good name, boy. It means black, too. Two partners named Black?”

Now it was Levac’s turn to frown. He hadn’t thought of that. But he shrugged it off and licked his pencil. “They’re twin sisters. Now, can you tell me if you and your partner found anything odd? Anything you didn’t let the public know or that isn’t in the file?”

“We didn’t report a lot. No one would have believed us. It was in the file originally, but old Captain Jenkins took it out and burned it, photos and all,” Sandoval said.

“Like what?”

“The satanic nonsense,” Sandoval said. “Blood, skulls, things painted on the walls, it was everywhere. But with the Nazi’s being the boogey man of the day, we hushed it up.”

He turned his wheelchair and pointed at a lockbox beneath the bed. “Pull that out.”

Levac dragged the box out and set it on a table near a Sandoval. Sandoval pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the box.

“The file is at the bottom, copies of all my sketches, everything I salvaged and could remember,” he said.

Levac dug through decades of memorabilia and pulled out a file thick with yellowing papers. He pulled the rotting rubber band holding it together and flipped through. There were old black and white photos of the office, sketches of the body and crime scene and diagrams of the ‘satanic’ items that Sandoval had mentioned. Levac recognized skulls and some of the occult symbols on the wall, but not all.

“What do you think happened?” he asked.

Sandoval’s face hardened again. “You want the honest truth, Agent Levac?”

Levac turned. “I do.”

“I think the dumb son of a bitch called something, and it killed him. Took his soul right out of his body,” Sandoval said.

“Why do you say that?”

Sandoval leaned forward in his chair. “I’m too old to lie, Agent Levac. The man was cold. I don’t mean corpse cold, I mean cold. You could feel it coming off of him, and his eyes were all white, like snowballs in his head.”

He tapped his knee for emphasis. “That man had no soul.”

He leaned back and looked old, much older than he had when Levac entered.

“Thank you, Detective. May I take this?” Levac asked.

Sandoval nodded. “Take it, I don’t want it anymore.”

Levac snapped the band in place and fished a business card out of his pocket. He offered the wrinkled slip of paper to Sandoval.

“If you think of anything or need anything, please feel free to call, night or day.”

Sandoval took it and ran a thumb over the logo. “Section Thirteen. I’ll be damned.”

Levac nodded.

Sandoval closed his eyes. “I need to rest. Come back tomorrow if you still have questions.”

“Thank you again, Detective.”

Levac turned away moved toward the next room. He paused and looked back. “One more thing, Detective. What was Big Mack’s name? His real name?”

Sandoval roused himself and focused his grey eyes on Levac. “Mason.”

“Thought so.”

He found Sable outside. She was leaned up against an old tree, a cigarette in her hand. She blew the smoke out through her nose and arched an eyebrow.

“Anything?”

Levac held up the file he’d been carrying. “Just his old case file. He made a copy of the full thing before they edited it for public consumption.”

“Oh, nice!” Sable said. “What did he say?”

Levac waved smoke out of his face. “There was some kind of satanic ritual in the room where they found Saylor’s body. He also said that he thought Saylor had no soul.”

Sable tossed her cigarette in the general direction of an ash can. “Figuratively or literally?”

“Literally. He said Saylor’s skin was ice cold and his eyes were all white. Does that mean anything to you?” Levac asked.

Sable shook her head and turned toward the parked Jaguar. “Nope. But I bet I know someone who can help.”

Levac paused and stubbed out her cigarette. “Who?”

Sable turned. “Are you always this Dudley Do-Right?”

Levac smiled. “Raven threatened to pop my head off for littering. You don’t forget things like that. You were saying?”

Sable made a disgusted face. “Raven is a piece of work. Like one person not littering is going to clean up this shitty world. Anyway, we can go see Marie. She might have some ideas.”

She climbed into the Jaguar where Levac joined her, the file in his lap. “It is still early, I doubt Marie is up yet.”

Sable started the car and slid her glasses on. “Then we wake her. It’s a Federal thing.”

The drive to Old Town was one of the most painful of Levac’s life. He learned that Sable had very different musical taste than Raven and she liked to sing 90s pop at the top of her lungs. Badly. When she parked in the lot outside the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the district she was belting out an old Britney Spears song so loud he thought his eardrums were going to burst. When the song ended and she climbed out of the car, Levac led the way through the arch and into the old street beyond. Old Town was a recreation of the old Victorian heart of the city that dated back to the 1800s, though the storefronts, restaurants and clubs had all been given a gothic bent during the remodel of thirty years ago. Gargoyles, black paint and gothic arches were prevalent. At this hour, it was quiet, save for old MacLeod yelling about something from his bar, Isle of Night. At this distance it was almost impossible to tell what he was saying, his Scottish burr was too thick, but whatever it was, he wasn’t happy. There was also activity outside the Night Shift, Francois Du Guerre’s nightclub. The vampire should have been resting and the club closed, but a limousine was parked outside nonetheless. Levac’s curiosity was piqued, but nothing more. He disliked Du Guerre as much as Raven did, if not more, but whatever was going on didn’t appear to be a police matter.

Marie’s Curiosities sat in the middle of the street, a small Victorian storefront with several windows displaying such items as human skulls, dribbly candles and potion remedies. Sable knocked on the door hard enough to make it rattle on its hinges and stood, one heel rocking back and forth.

“Relax, Sable,” Levac said. “Investigations take time, this isn’t going to be solved this afternoon.”

Sable nodded. “I am used to seek and destroy. Find it and kill it before it kills someone else. All this asking questions stuff is getting on my nerves.”

Levac pursed his lips. “How do you find them without asking questions?”

“The target has usually been located before I am assigned. I presume someone else from Section Thirteen does that part,” Sable replied.

“Well then, this is good practice. Sometimes shooting first isn’t the best solution.”

The door opened a moment later to Marie dressed in a bright-orange nightgown with her black dreadlocks pulled into a scarf on top of her head.

“Ravenel! It is good to see you!” she said.

She hugged Sable into her ample bosom and paused. A shadow crossed her face and she pushed Sable back.

“Sable Branwen… you look just like your sister,” she said.

Levac noted the hard edge to her voice.

Sable took off her glasses. “That’s what the word “twins” usually means, houngan.”

Marie rolled her eyes and smiled at Levac. “Rupert, dear man, where have you and Sloan been hiding?”

Levac smiled. “Sloan and the job have been keeping me busy. She just started in the ER at Mercy and things are just crazy. I’m hoping to take her to Isle for drinks later this week.”

Marie stepped aside. “Come in, do! Have you set a date?”

Levac let Sable enter then followed. “Not yet. Sloan wants Raven to be there, so we are waiting to find out how things are going to work out with her and…you know.”

The inside of the store never seemed to change. To the right was a single long counter with rows of homeopathic remedies, jars of dried herbs and flowers, and the odd bubbling things in bottles, skulls, candles and gris-gris bags waiting to be purchased. To the left was a wider selection of spell components, clothing, spell books and knick-knacks of the sort that tourists liked to purchase, take home and forget. Marie stepped behind the counter and set about making tea.