Raven: The Byron Trilogy, #2

​Chapter 1: An Evil Stowaway

San Francisco 1921

A pale, sickly moon hung low in the night sky over San Francisco Bay, casting a melancholic hue across the road leading to Cliff House. Byron Hayes glimpsed the bent opening in the iron railing, a clear sign a car had plunged over the edge. He parked his Model T behind the line of police cars that filled the hotel’s driveway. As soon as his leather Oxford shoes touched the gravel, he knew why his cop pal Jimmy Garret had called him.

Evil spread from the wreck in green tendrils, as the noxious odor of demons loomed over the dizzy surf. Byron directed his flashlight towards a Rolls Royce, now in ruins on the rocks. There was no chance the driver made it out alive. A feeling of deep discomfort washed over him and made him want to hurl on the gravel. All demons affected him, but some were worse than others. The older a devil, the foulest the stink. A touch on his shoulder startled him. His gaze met a worried face surrounded by tousled blond hair and looks to die for on a cop.

Under his breath, Jimmy asked, Are you alright?

Even a trained supernatural investigator could get spooked. Byron nodded. He crunched his way down a steep, pebbled path that led to the crash site, careful not to lose his footing. The cops kept their distance in a tight huddle on the road. Good. Byron refused to let any of them come into contact with a demon. None of them believed they existed, for one. Most people were oblivious to their constant presence.

Who drove off the cliff? Byron asked.

Jimmy lost his balance on loose pebbles and nearly collided with him, but extended a hand to catch hold of a crevice. Gasping for breath in the moonlight, his pale face sweat-dappled, he said, Charles Edgar.

The slumlord? Byron’s brows shot to his hairline. That news changed things. He surveyed the vehicle in a new light. This death wouldn’t keep anyone up at night or make them cry themselves to sleep. More of a mobster than a businessman, Edgar had friends in high places and lots of enemies, thanks to his dirty deals. He acquired four companies in the past month and fired their employees to hire cheaper labor. A lot of folks wanted him dead. Wearing a frown, Byron massaged the ache in the back of his neck.

This could complicate matters.

From a distance, nothing looked wrong with the car, but as he got within four feet, Byron slowed. He looked for the source of the diabolical essence that hovered over it in an invisible cloud. A pool of black motor oil gathered under the blown-out tires. Blood congealed on a busted windshield and leather seats. Byron sensed a powerful adversary. Choking on its foul stench, Byron put his hand over his mouth. The thing inside pulled back in disgust when he got close and produced a low hiss that went unnoticed by everyone else. Wise to the risk, Jimmy stayed back. The noxious stench of malice and decay confirmed that Byron faced an ancient demon.

His hands stuffed in the pockets of his trench coat, Byron studied the Rolls, his eyes covering every inch of its once-expensive body, aware of the invisible tarnish clinging to it. When San Francisco burned in the 1906 quake, Charles Edgar made a fortune by replacing old apartments with new ones to hike the rent. It forced all the original renters into the slums. He greased the right palms, got his corrupt officials elected, bribed judges, and made billions in revenue with no concern over who got hurt. Now, he had plummeted to his death.

Not a loss to San Francisco, all things considered.

Byron had to approach the car despite his severe reluctance. The demon might harm anyone else who tried to tamper with it, but he had natural, divine authority. He could see and touch them, even banish them. Byron stood there so long, trying to work out what kind of devil hid inside it, that Jimmy cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one leather shoe to another. What do you think? his pal asked.

The power of its evil is immense. Be prepared for anything. Byron pushed aside his serious concerns and opened the door to peer into a dim interior. The cop tensed behind him, ready to jerk his friend out of harm’s way. Byron waited for a demon to appear, for the shiver at the base of his spine to escalate, or for smoke to pour out from under the dented hood, but nothing happened. A gust of wind caused Jimmy to glance into the bay, his anxiety apparent.

Reveal yourself, Byron commanded softly.

No response. It seemed his authority didn’t extend to this demon, unlike the lesser ones. The pressure on his temples intensified, causing his head to ache, and the air thickened in his lungs. He had to work fast, before his enemy liquefied his brains. An ominous presence lingered in the driver’s seat. In the glove box, Byron discovered an empty booze flask and a pack of Black Cat cigarettes, his dead wife’s favorite brand. She smoked them with a luxurious filter. Avoiding the memory of her mangled body, he thrust his hand under the seat and found something so hot it burned him through his gloves. He yanked it out and opened his fingers to reveal an old coin, tarnished, worn flat, and heavier than it should be for its tiny size. A diabolical presence came attached to it, but it refused to reveal itself. A powerful urge to throw it into the sea surged through him, but he resisted and held on tighter.

Hey Jimmy, he said coolly to conceal his fear, could you go to my trunk and grab the silver box?

Both of them knew what this request signified. A cursed object. Salt and silver trapped and weakened demons. His pal nodded and dashed up the path, gravel flying and flashlight beam bouncing off the cliff. The ocean pounded the rocks below. The cops needed to winch the Rolls up a sheer drop and remove it before the morning traffic. Byron endured the heat and pain until Jimmy returned and he could drop the coin into the box. Closing the lid relieved him of his dread. The tightness in his muscles faded, and he exhaled with relief. Cursed objects were too unsafe to ignore. Byron put the box in his pocket, grateful to find no more evil stowaways in the car.

Jimmy’s color returned by the time they reached the road, and he wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm. A gentle breeze brushed against their faces, bringing the scent of an impending storm from the gathering clouds over the water. San Francisco faced a tempestuous spring, the wettest in a long time. The mayor broke away from a cluster of grave-faced men to approach them. He removed a cigar from between his lips to say, You must be Byron Hayes, spiritual private eye. The archbishop mentioned you to me. Can I trust you to handle this with discretion?

Byron’s heart constricted at the casual mention of Archbishop Rossi. They despised each other. As the head of the Council that hired Byron to keep the city safe from demons, Rossi preferred him kept out of sight, and would not recommend him. He swallowed his contempt and declined the offer of a smoke. I will do my best. My investigation would benefit from a few details. Did you dine with Mr. Edgar tonight?

A wind gust, accompanied by scattered raindrops, blew their hair away from their faces and tried to toss his fedora out into the Bay, but he clamped his hand over it. A frigate entering the Barbary Coast blew its warning horn in the distance.

The mayor nodded and rammed his cigar between his coffee-stained teeth. We met for our usual game of poker, but Edgar was in a foul mood. He lost to my three aces and stormed out of the hotel. We all saw him plunge over the cliff. It looked like he never even touched his brakes. If I didn’t know him better, I’d say he did it on purpose. It’s a shame to ruin such a fine vehicle. Brand new, too!

Byron overlooked how he seemed more concerned about the damage to the Rolls Royce than about his associate’s death. He took some notes, collected additional information from the other card players, and walked back to his Model T. He watched them winch up the Rolls with a screech of steel. A winded cop hurried up to him and said, Mr. Hayes, a call for you came in on the radio. Our dispatcher said that a Mother Superior asks you to come to St. Catherine’s Home right away. It’s about your sister.

Anxiety flooded over him. Did she say why?

The man shook his head and fiddled with his cap. The radio cut out, and I lost the signal. I’m sorry.

After Jimmy finishes his paperwork, tell him what you told me and that he should meet me there.

Anything that concerned his beautiful, insane sister involved Jimmy, the man who wanted to marry her before a demon robbed her of her mind. Byron slid into the front seat of his car, put it in gear, and sped down the cliff road at a breakneck speed.

He prayed nothing horrible had befallen Nora.

* * *

Raven Rossi despised St. Catherine’s Home, a place where her grandfather sent her mother for a quick stint before her birth, but she refused to let Byron go there alone. Good news or bad, she wanted to be at his side. She waited on a curb, having walked to 31st Street from the streetcar after the phone call. 

A soft rustle in the bushes caused her head to snap around, and she surveyed them suspiciously through narrowed green eyes. Life on the streets taught her to be careful, and she trusted the tingle at the base of her spine. Raven parted the hedge and saw a filthy black kitten crouched in the earth, too thin to belong to anyone. Her heart went out to it. She kneeled on the wet pavement to coax it nearer. A little nose sniffed at her cuff and then rubbed against her palm. Raven picked it up and nestled it inside her coat for warmth. The kitten let out a grateful meow.

A magnificent gray cat owned Byron.

Why shouldn’t she bring a little lost kitten home?

Even at half past midnight, the streets were full of cars and drivers honked at each other or shouted out their windows. Flashing electric signs lit up the night sky and obscured the moon. Safe in the shadows across from the asylum, Raven watched for a Model T with dents in its hood. Soon, a white van pulled up to the curb and two men wrestled an Asian girl out of the back. She fought savagely; her eyes were wild. Something about her made Raven uneasy. Gripped by fear, Raven melted into the gloom and clutched the kitten to her racing heart. No stench of evil hung about this girl, just desperation.

A somber nun emerged from the brick building to check her name on a chart. Cassi Wu?

Yes, said her handler, and she’s a handful!

Cassi broke free by kicking him in the kneecap and fled up the street, but the other man tackled her at the corner. Raven heard a thump, followed by a small splash in the gutter. One of them had just dropped something, but no one seemed to notice it but her.

I’m not mad! A vampire is coming to the city to suck out its marrow! It will be a feast of souls! Listen to me! Her shouts died away behind a wrought-iron gate and a weird silence fell in its wake. Raven let out her breath. The kitten pawed her chest and cried for attention. Curious to find whatever had fallen, Raven crossed the road at the first break in traffic, passed the white ambulance, and turned the corner.

Her eyes scanned the gutter, and a gleam drew her attention to a blocked-up storm drain. Raven leaned in to search the puddle and, to her surprise, pulled out a pearl-handled derringer small enough to fit in a purse. The shadows deepened beyond the reach of the streetlights. Cassi could go to jail for this. Better hurl it into the Bay. Raven slid it into her coat pocket.

Twin headlights flashed across her and lit up her petite form and chin length messy black hair. Byron tapped the brakes and eased into an empty parking space across from the asylum. Shaken by seeing the girl dragged inside, Raven waited for him on the street. His face pale under the crumpled brim of his fedora, he joined her in the dim circle of light. Did anyone tell you what happened?

She shook her head. No. I wanted to wait for you before I went inside and asked questions.

His brown eyes dropped to the kitten tucked inside her coat and his brow arched, but he said nothing. Leading her with a gentle touch on her back, they went up the steps and through the gate to ring the bell. A black-clad nun let them into a quiet hall. The smell of disinfectant permeated the place and churned her stomach. Raven saw no sign of Cassi. Their footfalls echoed on a floor scrubbed to within an inch of its life. Mother Superior left her office to greet them and raised a hand to halt his torrent of questions. Your sister is lucid, Mr. Hayes. She knows her own mind, and asked for you by name.

Byron halted in a stunned silence at the foot of the stairs. Nora had been insane for fifteen years, since a demon robbed her of her wits and brought the roof down on her and his wife, Julia. A thousand times, Byron had walked these halls, and doctors told him not to hope she would recover. He and Jimmy had resigned themselves to her insanity. Raven slid her fingers into his in a gesture of quiet support.

Aware of his inner turmoil, Mother Superior said, I’ll give you a moment to process it, and vanished. 

It can’t be, Byron said, with a hint of hope.

Raven stroked the kitten and bit her lip. She knew better than to trust this without skepticism, better than anyone, since a demon named Moloch had once taken her hostage. Demons needed a reason to release their grip on a victim. The possessed had to want to reclaim their soul and fight for its release. Raven squeezed his hand and met his uncertain gaze. With more confidence than she felt, she said, Trust your instincts. Go to her. Speak to her. Find out if she is your sister, and then we’ll decide what to do.

Byron nodded. Let’s hear her out.

Raven followed him upstairs and down a corridor lined with locked doors. She could think of nothing worse than being shut up here for decades, and pitied Cassi for being brought here against her will. The one time she met his sister, Nora spoke her name without being told. Would she remember it?

Affected by the tension radiating from Byron, Raven wanted to console him, but shared his doubts. They had too much practice with deceit to trust.

Wait here, he said, and left her in the stairwell. 

Raven sat down, snuggled her kitten, and prayed what he found in that room didn’t bust up his heart.

Chapter 2: A Miracle

In the gloom outside his sister’s door, Byron took a breath to steady himself and prepare for whatever he might discover on the other side. Would he meet the real Nora or a demon wearing her skin? He relied on instinct to guide him, so he shut his eyes and sniffed. Rather than the stench of soul-rot, Byron breathed in the fumes of bleach used to scrub the walls. If an evil force possessed his sister, he couldn’t detect it.

Stay calm and keep your wits about you, he told himself. Once he replaced his rampant emotions with detachment in case he had to confront a demon, Byron twisted the knob and entered a room engulfed in moonlit shadows. It held a bed, a chair, and a few books, but little else. The nuns forbid their patients anything they might use to hurt themselves or others. Scribbles covered the white walls in testament to her disordered mind. Nora had filled the space with half-finished thoughts, pictures, musical notes, poetry.

The air stirred with his arrival. His gorgeous, dark-haired sister dropped her book and leaped to her feet to greet him. It shocked him to see the imprint of a palm on her forehead. It shone in the gloom with a divine essence, but no one else could see it. The door latched behind him, and he leaned against it to regain his focus. Nora wore a lavender shawl that brought out the natural pink of her cheeks. She did not look as if she’d spent fifteen years shut up in this place. He saw no demon behind her warm gray eyes, only excitement. She said, Oh, Byron! You do not know how wonderful it is to see you again!

His gaze darted across her beautiful face in search of a diabolical truth, but it carried no trace of malice or trickery. Byron scanned the walls and ceiling for a hidden threat, in case the demons had lured him here to kill him, but saw nothing. Her arms outstretched, Nora approached him for an embrace, but he raised a hand to stop her. She halted with a bewildered look and asked, Byron, what is the matter? Why are you not pleased to see me? What has happened?

One touch would reveal the truth about her soul. Byron’s power could destroy most demons, but the thought of his sister harboring an evil spirit terrified him. If he found one, he must exorcise it and it might kill her. The demon could shred her fragile, damaged mind as it fled. After hesitation, he invited her to accept his outstretched fingers. If she were demon-possessed, a light touch would hurt her less than an embrace. Nora took them, and he reached into her soul with his intuition. Her thoughts were free of threat, but held faint remnants of the madness that had once controlled her. She contained no menace.

His great relief brought back his emotions. Byron wrapped his muscular arms around her and held her close. When he spoke, his voice broke. I’ve waited for this for a long time. What do you remember?

Her strength surprising for one so slender, Nora pulled away to study him in the moonlight. Concern flitted through her captivating gaze, and she traced the faint lines on his face, Byron aware she had not aged a day. Her room had no mirror, so she could not see this about herself. A creature inhabited my mind and scurried in the recesses of my imagination. One day, it took over me. I resisted, but had no way of controlling it. It prevented me from speaking the truth by distorting my words into nonsense. I tried to tell you about it, but nothing I said made sense. It trapped me in a world of shadows, but it is no more. At the stroke of midnight, my tormentor left me. 

He lifted her chin, meeting her now-vibrant eyes.

Moonlight caressed the soft contours of her face and cast their shadows toward the door. Tugging at his wrist, Nora trembled and whispered with an ache of desperation, Everything is a bit of a haze, but I saw Julia turn to fight a demon who tore the roof off the house... how is she? Did she survive the attack?

Hearing his wife’s name drove a knife into his heart. Unsure of how to break the news of her death, Byron evaded the question. "Let’s save that chat for later. Do you remember any of my