Storm (The Storm Chronicles Book 6) (10 page)

She turned and walked to the door, almost falling in the platform boots she was wearing. Raven tugged them off and tossed them aside in irritation then yanked open the door. The grand hall below was exactly as it had always been, complete with ugly marble statues and her father’s overstuffed chair, where he liked to relax and read. Raven had never understood why he’d preferred to sit in the hall instead of the library, but he’d been a fixture there for most of her life. At least when he wasn’t up to his neck on a case.

Several groups of vampires dressed in funeral attire, which for vampires meant yards of leather, black lace and red velvet armbands, stood below, talking quietly and drinking Claret. Some of the conversation was about the late Mason Storm, but most was about Valentina’s choice of Fürstin. In Mason’s absence, Raven was now the Mistress’ protector and many did not think a teen dhampyr was up to the task.

Raven remembered this night. There would soon be an attempt on Valentina’s life, one that Raven had stopped, cementing her place as Fürstin.

A figure leaned against the railing beside her. “You can let her die, you know. Be normal.”

“Hello, Father,” Raven said.

Mason Storm smiled. “Hello, Raven. You can let her die.”

“I heard you,” Raven said.

She turned to look at the man beside her. He looked the same; a tall man in black pants, red shirt and black leather jacket with his badge on a chain that dangled above his stomach. His goatee was neatly trimmed and his greying black hair was brushed back from the temples with just a hint of pomade. He scratched the corner of his mouth and Raven could smell bourbon and cheap cigars on his breath.

“You’re going to stare a hole through me, kid,” he said.

Raven looked away. “Sorry.”

Mason shrugged. “No problem. Got a hug for your dad?”

“You aren’t my father.”

Mason chuckled and fished a cigar out of his pocket. “How do you know?”

Raven closed her eyes. “Because they buried him yesterday. Or fifteen years ago. Whatever. You’re not him.”

Mason lit the cigar with a lighter from his pocket and inhaled the rich-scented smoke. “Mm, but I’m immortal. They can’t kill me, just inconvenience me for a while. How do you know I’m not me?” Mason asked.

“Because you’re not.”

Mason felt his arm and grinned. “I feel like me. And tonight, I’m giving you a choice.”

He did indeed look like Mason had. He sounded like him, even the voice was right, the cadence and the way he’d called her ‘kid’.

“What do you mean?” Raven asked.

“I mean, this is a second chance, kid. Let your mother die, as you wanted to, and come with me,” Mason said.

He turned and started down the stairs. He stopped halfway down and looked back, cigar smoke swirling around his head. “The show is about to start, are you coming?”

Raven felt as if she were in a dream. Some of it felt real. The house, the floor beneath her stockinged feet, the cool air, even the distant rumble of thunder that made the walls shake, along with the scent of smoldering tobacco.

Other things felt like so much fog. Her hair was all wrong. She’d endured an hour of torture three years ago and had almost two feet cut off. The weight now was off, and it wasn’t just because she’d had her hair cut. It didn’t feel right, it felt like mist against her back. So did the skirt that rustled around her legs and the earrings that should have weighted her ears. They were there, but not. She couldn’t explain it, even to herself.

She followed Mason down the stairs and padded across the hall, where she was stopped by Dominique. Dominique, in her long white gown, flowing blonde hair and bare feet. She’d been a godsend that week, and every day since. Valentina had been aloof in her pain and left Raven to her own grief. Dominique had held her, comforted her and told her it was okay to cry.

“Ravenel, my child. How are you?”

Raven smiled. “I’m doing okay, Dominique. Thank you.”

Dominique hugged her tight. “I know you are not, child. I am here if you need to talk, but after court. Your mother needs you in the ballroom right away.”

Raven nodded and waited for Dominique to acknowledge Mason. After a moment, Dominique frowned.

“Is something wrong?”

“What about Dad? Aren’t you going to say something?”

“She can’t see me,” Mason said.

Raven blinked. “What?”

Mason took the cigar from his mouth. “She can’t see me. I’m here, I promise, but she can’t see me. Not yet.”

“I’m sorry he is gone, Ravenel. We can talk about it after court. Please, attend Lady Valentina,” Dominique said.

Raven hugged her again then moved through the ballroom doors, which were guarded by two vampires she didn’t remember. One of them smirked and said, “Fürstin,” in a way that was more snide than deferential. Raven met his eyes and let her power show. “I beg your pardon?”

He blinked in surprise. “Greetings, Fürstin Ravenel. Lady Valentina is expecting you.”

“That’s better.”

Raven crossed the ballroom, which was more a throne room than an area reserved for parties and dancing. The floor was made of white marble, the ceiling was covered in hammered gold and crystal chandeliers filled with enough candles to light New Hampshire hung at intervals around the chamber.

Half of the room held tables covered in black velvet and decorated with china that bore the Tempeste family crest. Chilled Claret and a variety of finger-foods had also been set out, presided over by a hired staff, and a collection of funeral gifts had been stacked on a low table on the far side of the room.

Opposite this was Lady Valentina dressed in a black and red gown of leather, satin and lace. Her black hair hung loose about her shoulders and her face was hidden by a veil that left only her blue eyes visible. A group of vampires, a mix of suitors and mourners, surrounded her where she sat in the high-backed chair she called her office and everyone else called her throne. Valentina snapped her fingers and the crowd parted, allowing Raven to approach with Mason at her side munching on what smelled like crab salad.

“Ravenel,” Valentina said, extending her hand.

“Mother,” Raven replied.

She kissed her mother’s hand and Mason made annoyed sounds.

“I always hated this stuff,” he said.

Raven ignored him. She knew he hated the theatrics of vampire court as much as she did, which is probably why he’d said it. She hated mind games even more than Court.

Valentina stood and put her arm around Raven, turning her to face the crowd. “Masters and Mistresses of the Court, as you know, with the passing of my husband, my daughter Ravenel Tempeste has been elevated to position of Fürstin. She is young, but I have every confidence she will make me and the Court proud. By the Totentanz, may I present Fürstin Ravenel Tempeste!”

Most of the crowd raised their glasses in salute to Raven, who smiled in spite of herself. A single vampire, however, poured his glass out onto the marble floor, where the chilled blood spattered and ran into the small gutters that lined the room.

“Here we go,” Mason said. “All you have to do is nothing.”

Raven watched the vampire. He was tall, with a mutton-chop beard and bald head that reflected the candles above. Like everyone else, he was dressed in black and had a red velvet armband around his left arm. Unlike the others, he was carrying a sword and he drew it in a fluid movement that told Raven he knew what he was doing.

“You will be still, Marius!” Valentina thundered.

“I will not stand by and allow you and your half-breed child rule this city!” Marius yelled back.

He rushed forward and time slowed.

“Just let him by,” Mason said.

Raven almost let him. She stepped aside, giving him a clear line to Lady Valentina, who looked both angry and frightened. Then time came rushing back. Raven drew her father’s Automag from the holster she wore beneath her jacket and put two rounds into the back of Marius’ head. He exploded in a shower of ash and flame, not even able to scream. Valentina blinked in surprise then began to applaud, her face a mix of pride and worry.

Raven looked at Mason. “My father would never have let my mother be hurt. Never.”

Mason’s eyes flared blue and again pain thundered through Raven’s head. She finished falling to the deck of the
Crescent Star,
where she writhed in pain as the storm raged around her.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chicago, Tempeste Manor: 7:00 p.m.

Sable looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. Dominique had dressed her in the leather dress matched with pumps with heels so high she felt like she was going to fall on her face. More makeup than she had ever worn before made her look exotic and the red ponytail that fell in a waterfall down her back was laced with leather and velvet.

“This is really what a Fürstin wears?”

Dominique gave her a critical look. “Mm…you are showing less skin than Raven usually does, but yes. Why?”

“I can hardly move! How am I supposed to fight in this?”

“Practice,” Thad said from the door.

Sable turned to face him. “Practice? How do I practice breathing with my waist crushed?”

He shrugged. “Ask your sister. Grab your weapons, mother needs you downstairs.”

Dominique helped Sable buckle on her short-swords and thigh-holster that allowed access to her revolver through the thigh slit.

“Not ideal,” Dominique said, fiddling with the massive weapon, “but it will do.”

“I feel sexy and ridiculous at the same time,” Sable groused. “Can’t I just put on some pants?”

“We must go,” Dominique replied.

Sable teetered in the heels, but after several steps managed to find a swaying gait that worked and seemed to please Dominique, who followed just behind her and to the left. A few moments later, Thad opened the doors to the ballroom and Sable entered. It was only the second time she had ever been in the throne room, and it still took her breath away. The marble floor was so polished it shone like a mirror and reflected the gold of the ceiling in a way that made it look like it was laced with rich veins. Columns of black held up the ceiling and the crystal chandeliers held thousands of candles that somehow never dribbled on the guests beneath. Valentina sat on her black and red throne, chatting with an older vampire and sipping Claret from a goblet made of crystal and gold. A tall, white-haired female vampire stood to her right, clad in a black cat-suit that had more holes than leather. A pistol hung on her right hip and the way she stood let Sable know she knew how to use it.

“Remember the Totentanz! Move to her left side!” Dominique hissed.

Sable blinked out of her fog and walked with as much pride as she could muster to her mother’s side. Valentina raised her left hand and Sable kissed it before turning back to the guests. Valentina stood and even in her heels was shorter than Sable.

“Masters and Mistresses, may I present my daughter Branwen, who has been studying abroad these many years,” Valentina said.

The Court bowed in greeting. Sable returned it with a curtsy of her own, and conversation resumed. Valentina kissed her cheek.

“You look delicious, my love.”

Sable blushed. “Thanks, Mom.”

It was a moment before she caught the look in Valentina’s eye and the stares of vampires around her. “I..I mean thank you, Mother.”

Valentina nodded and resumed her seat. “Lord Rivera was just telling me about the import business he would like to open. Do continue, Julian.”

The older vampire, a portly gentleman in a black tuxedo that looked one size too small, smiled. “As I was saying, there is an open storefront not far from Isle of Night in Old Town. The business would…”

Sable tuned him out, she had no interest in vampire stores.
This is what Raven did? Stand by Mom and look menacing while she discussed stores?

She looked away in disgust and caught the vampire across from her staring. She arched a questioning eyebrow and the vampire smiled back.

“That is your sister Pandora,” Dominique whispered at her elbow. “She is acting as Fürstin in your sister’s absence.”

“Is she Fürstin? I mean, is that what people call her?” Sable asked.

“Of course not! Didn’t you read the Totentanz? She is
Mädchen
, the Fürstin’s handmaiden. It is an old title, one your mother revived for Raven’s sake,” Dominique replied.

Sable nodded. “It seems a lot was done for Raven’s sake.”

“More was done for yours, child. Perhaps one day you will understand,” Dominique replied.

Doubt it.

Sable stifled a yawn and looked back at the gathered vampires, most of whom were chatting amongst themselves as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Some, a group of men and women wearing grey sashes, stood by themselves. Something about the way they stood and cast glances in her direction made her pause.

“Who are the grey-sashes?” she asked.

“Strohm Anucarudu. Members of a group your brother Xavier created. They do not believe Strohm is dead and seek to overthrow your mother.”

Sable glanced at her. “Then why are they here?”

Dominique looked at them and there was anger in her eyes. “Because they have a right to be, and your mother believes in keeping her enemies close.”

Sable looked back at the sashed vampires. She counted six visible weapons, but several men also carried the tell-tale bulges of concealed firearms. She slipped out of her heels and glanced at Dominique.

“Be right back.”

Dominique shook her head. “Sable, wait…”

Sable ignored her. The Anucarudu were making her fists itch and she felt pretty certain that Raven wouldn’t just stand there when she had a hunch. She nodded at Pandora then moved through the crowd, pausing only long enough to return a few quiet greetings, then stopped near the apparent leader of the Anucarudu, a female vampire in a dress that consisted mostly of leather straps that accentuated the pale flesh beneath.

“Good evening, Lady Tempeste,” the vampire said.

Sable extended a hand. “Good evening, I’m sorry, you have me at a disadvantage.”

The vampire kissed Sable’s knuckle. “Delacroix. Natasha Delacroix of the House Du Guerre.”

“Du Guerre? You’re a member of Francois’ house?”

Natasha bowed her head. “Indeed, he is my sire. This is my sister, Angela, Lord Ichabod Lux, Lordling Francis Trane, Lordling Harold Demars and Lady Shade Trueblood.”

“I didn’t know he had any childer.”

Natasha’s smile showed fang. “I know he is your
Lehrer
, but I suspect there are many things you do not know, mi’lady. Lord Du Guerre is a private man.”

Sable fought to keep her annoyance off her face. “True. Is he here, this evening? I haven’t seen him.”

Natasha shook her head. “Sadly, no. Business took him away this afternoon. He left before full dark. Something to do with your sister, I believe.”

“I don’t think so,” Sable said with a laugh. “I think Ravenel would rather eat her own shoes than deal with Francois.”

There was a quiet cough from her elbow and Sable glanced at Thad, who looked disapproving. He shook his head once, then moved closer. “I think what my sister means is that she doubts Fürstin Ravenel is working with Lord Du Guerre. The Fürstin is still in Seattle working for a task force, while Lord Du Guerre is here.”

Natasha smiled wider and gave a slight bow of her head. “Of course, Lord Strohm.”

Thad smiled. “Natasha, you know not to call me that. Thad is fine.”

Natasha’s face darkened. “Are you ashamed of your title, Lord Strohm?”

Thad gave her a blank look. “Of course.”

He took Sable’s elbow and she let him guide her away from the Anucarudu.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

Sable pulled her elbow free. “My job! Those bloodsuckers are armed to the teeth!”

Thad glared up at her. “Yes, they are! So is almost everyone here! Branwen, this looks like a social gathering, but it is really a bunch of enemies watching each other. It is controlled chaos that just needs one wrong word to go from barely-contained to full on explosion of violence. Especially with Raven gone!”

Sable blinked at him in surprise. “This is normal?”

He shrugged. “As normal as it gets. With Raven gone, mother is in danger 24/7. The only thing keeping most of these mosquitos in line is fear.”

“Fear of what?”

“Your sister coming home,” Thad replied.

He held her eyes a moment longer, then walked away to vanish back into the crowd. Once he was gone, Sable looked back at the nearest guests and for the first time noticed the weapons. A sword-cane here, a concealed pistol there, a decorative but deadly dagger at the waist. Thad was right, nearly everyone was armed and it was almost impossible to tell who supported whom. At least the Anucarudu wore armbands.

She sighed and returned to her place beside Valentina, who was now speaking with a young-looking female vampire about hunting rights.

“No, Lizzie. As I told you last week and every week for the last month, you cannot hunt humans, even on nights of the waning moon,” Valentina said.

Lizzie sighed. “With respect, Lady Valentina, it is difficult for one such as I to feed without hunting. Most vic…donors…act like I am some sort of Lolita.”

Sable looked at the vampire. Though she looked no more than sixteen, there was a power about her that belied her apparent age. She was well over a hundred years old.

“Perhaps you should consider dressing more like a modern teen and pursuing boys your apparent age instead of older men,” Valentina replied dryly.

Lizzie smiled and Sable saw the predator in her eyes. “I like my Claret properly matured.”

“I understand, Lizzie. I do. But the Totentanz is clear. No hunting. But I will speak with Lord Du Guerre, his club caters to older humans, perhaps he can find a position for you there,” Valentina said.

“Thank you, mi’lady,” Lizzie said.

“Having fun yet?”

Sable looked at Pandora, who was now standing beside her. “Not really. This isn’t what I’d expected. Francois made it sound more…interesting.”

“Francois is a politician and a master of manipulation. To him, this is interesting,” Pandora said.

Sable felt Pandora’s hand on her back. “Cheer up, it’s almost over.”

A moment later the clocks began to chime the hour and vampires began to trickle out of the doors, leaving only family and a few of Valentina’s advisors behind. Valentina stood and joined Sable and Pandora.

“Thank you both for attending me.”

“You are welcome, Mother,” Pandora said.

Sable shrugged. “No problem. Is it always like this?”

Pandora smiled. “Boring? It has been since Ravenel killed a dissenter and challenged Lord Du Guerre right here on the floor. She made everyone swear fealty to mother, nobody has done that in the last one hundred years.”

“And did they?”

Valentina nodded. “They did. Branwen, you have called your sister weak and a wimp, though you have little cause. She is not, rather it is her fearsome reputation that protects me and this house. You would do well to remember that.”

Sable felt the anger clawing at her stomach. “So everyone keeps telling me.”

Pandora sighed. “You have her temper. Or she has yours. Branwen, why do you hold such animosity? Given half a chance, Raven would love you like she does the rest of this family. She could use family, a sister, who understands her.”

“Why? Because she lived here! She got to be with Mom and Dad! I grew up with a psychopath and a politician!” Sable cried.

Valentina reached for Sable’s hand, but she pulled away. “I was abandoned by my parents, do you have any idea what that is like?”

“It was the only choice I had,” Valentina said.

Sable turned away, wanting to be anywhere but here. “No, it wasn’t, Mom. You could have kept us together and let us be a family.”

Back in her room, Sable pulled off her gown and tossed it aside. She then began to dress in her own clothes. The bureau had paid for a decent hotel room for a change and anything was better than spending one more moment in this house. She had just buckled on her holster when there was a knock at the door and Valentina entered.

“May we speak?” Valentina asked.

“I have no interest, Mother,” Sable replied.

She slid her revolver into the holster and picked up her overnight bag.

“Please, Branwen, a moment.”

Sable glared at her. “Thirty seconds.”

Valentina sat on the bed and played with the many rings on her long fingers. “As you wish. You are right, Branwen. I should have kept you home. I let my fear of our children being used against us cloud my judgement and I ordered Du Guerre to protect you while still giving birth to your sister. It was a mistake, I knew it the moment Francois left. But it was too late. Your father was there and your sister was born. I couldn’t undo what I had done.”

Valentina raised her head and Sable saw tears of blood on her face. “I let myself believe it was best for you, to keep you safe.”

Sable stepped through the door, but paused. “You could have come for me, Mom. You could have brought us together, let me and Ray be raised as sisters instead of keeping us apart. We could have at least held each other’s hands during haircuts.”

Valentina nodded. “You are right, Branwen. I’ve said that.”

Sable had never seen Valentina look so miserable. She wanted to hug her, but instead asked, “Did Raven never ask about me?”

Valentina pulled a red handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. “No. She didn’t know you existed, child. How could she? I kept you a secret from almost everyone.”