Saint Valentine's Clash

By Raven Corinn Carluk

The second K&V Chronicle

Her powers are growing, her depressions are gone, and Keila is doing what she does best; helping those who need her. The young psionicist has her life back on track thanks to her considerate vampire lover and close friends that love her.
Varick is out of town, and Keila keeps herself busy to avoid any longing. Simy is suffering flashbacks from childhood, Giovanni says kids are going missing, and a strange presence is affecting Portland. More than enough for a young woman to juggle and solve, keeping herself happy.
Events culminate quickly; Simy is kidnapped, a sex cult is enthralling people, and an enticing incubus becomes her ward. Suddenly, it's a race against time with an enemy from her past.
Keila must face her greatest challenge, alone, and prove to the world just how deadly capable she is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raven Corinn Carluk
• Release date: Feb 13, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458192974

Raven Corinn Carluk

Talking about myself is much harder than writing a book. You'd think a wordmistress wouldn't have such a problem, but I do. Let me rework a flat scene any day. Simple background: I'm married, have lots of pets, still work full time, and grew up in Las Vegas. But there's so much more to a person than that. Writing is more than just words on paper to me. It's a passion, an incessant need, a deep-seated drive to be a storyteller. I knew I wanted to be an author as far back as high school. Writing may have taken a backseat a few times, but I finally made it. My stories have bite because I'm a little different, and like slightly different things. No shock horror here, or cheap gimmicks meant to offend, or pandering to the latest trend. My vampires love human blood, my dragons hunt people, and my elves are magical and arrogant. Romance and darkness will always go together for me. Love really can get you through anything, as I know from personal experience. My characters will always have that glimmer of new love, that bond with a soulmate, and will do anything to be with their one and only. When I'm not busy having things killed. Being deeply romantic doesn't mean I'm not also a violent or twisted writer. Fight scenes, bloodshed, dark magic, and triumphant villains all have their places in my tales. I'll never apologize for who I am. Sometimes abrasive and uncouth, full of contradictions and juxtaposition, I am merely who I am. And what I am is a storyteller wanting to craft new entertainments for you.

Book preview

Chapter One

I blew a strand of black hair out of my face, eyes locked on the training dummy before me. My heart pounded in my chest, sweat beaded my skin, my legs trembled, and I felt fantastic. Occupying my body gave my mind free reign, and I had a lot to contemplate.

My fist sank into the padded leather, and I followed up with a snap of my elbow. Even though this was a new technique, my muscles already knew it. Letting my tall body continue the pattern, my mind was clear, free to allow the images from my dream this morning to rise.

Several times since Varick had left for Boston, I'd dreamt of a moonlit ritual in a large stone henge. The location felt familiar, as did all the robed figures around me. I was chanting with them in some lyrical language I didn't know, power building all around us. There was always a sense of strength being bound, and a small figure in the middle of the stone circle. I could taste the night air, redolent with growing things, and the barest hint of blood. The figure we surrounded didn't seem scared, and yet there was something looming and frightening in the night.

I normally woke from that dream with my heart lodged in my throat, always with a vague sense of dread.

The part that bothered me so much was that it didn't feel like a dream. It was much more like I was watching something. But what I was watching, or why it left me so scared, I couldn't say. Varick might be able to unravel it, if I told him about it, and let him sift through my dreams.

Grunting as I drove a knee into the dummy, I tried to push the dreams away. I couldn't figure them out, didn't need to let them plague me. Never had my dreams been so bothersome, or so powerful. Powerful, even though the images were never overly clear. Swallowing down the lingering dread, I repeated the kata, increasing my speed, ending in a flourish.

Shaking myself from head to toe, I took a deep breath, and contemplated continuing my workout. My muscles trembled pleasantly, warm with use, but I wasn't tired yet. This was one of the sets of attacks Varick had left me to perfect. He felt it was his duty to help me improve, and he enjoyed watching my skills develop. I liked learning, and enjoyed the ways he chose to teach. A few months of training had done wonders.

We'd both been surprised when I started creating a telekinetic shield. It was weak, and it wore me out to keep it up for long fights, but it was a start. Neither of my parents had created personal shields like this, not even Aileen with her telekinetic abilities. Varick held the theory that I had several latent talents, and he was determined to bring them out. I was almost as determined as he was to improve.

Eschewing to continue the new attacks, I summoned my psi blade, ki flaring through my right arm in a pleasant pulse. I could now channel it through my left hand, although it wasn't as easy. I also felt significantly more comfortable drawing it from my right. It just felt natural.

I started a sword kata just as Simy burst into the house, his canvas sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floors. Shorter than me, not quite skinny enough to be called scrawny, he was a good looking young man. He was casual to an extreme, decked out in band tee shirts and a ratty Army jacket. The New Zealander was one of the most positive people I knew.

His eighteenth birthday had recently passed, making him mostly an adult by American laws. We'd celebrated in our typical style, which meant alcohol and baked goodies and hanging out. Simy had been loose and foolish, and come on to Varick. The vampire had politely turned him aside, then taken me to my room and ravaged me. It had been such a good birthday that I was looking forward to my own.

Hey, Keila, he said with a smile, deep dimples marking his cheeks, and waited in the doorway of our dining room-turned-dojo. It must have been raining, because his normally spiky hair was laying as flat as gelled hair could, darker than normal. Everything about him was narrow and slender, but his personality more than made up for his stature. Guess what?

Lemme see. I slashed at invisible opponents while the New Zealander's excitement poured into the room. My subconscious pulled it in, funneling in his excess energy. Now that I knew I fed upon emotions, I was constantly aware of doing so, and could attempt to use the extra energy. Though I still lacked control over the feeding itself. Slipknot is going to play a private gig for you, and let you have your choice of groupies?

He laughed, his entire face lighting up, blue-green eyes sparkling. Sif. No, I'm going to work at a tattoo shop.

Grats, I said, gliding through a series of spinning attacks. Who'd you blow to get that? I winked at him, watching him fake embarrassment. Simy was remarkably talented with tattoos, and showed more skill in a few months than many people did after years. A regular tat prodigy. He was good enough I was almost willing to let him do my next one. Although I'd probably just let him touch up the raven on my right shoulder; the scars weren't quite as smooth as I'd like them to be, making some of the lines jagged.

I finished my kata with a series of thrusts. Facing Simy while I calmed my breathing, my psi blade continued to pulse and hum, excess ki channeled into it. His eyebrows slowly rose as he watched the psychic energy thrumming at my side, and awe subsumed his excitement. I can see your blade, mate. What's it mean that I can see it?

Smirking, I pulled all the energy back inside, and the subsonic hum stopped. Sometime in the last month my psi blade had gotten stronger. Varick's sensitive hearing had immediately picked up the hum, and he'd been the first to notice the tracers it left in the air. He'd warned me it would only get stronger. It means my talents are being refined. Striding toward him, scratching at my sweaty scalp, I grinned. So, tell me about this tattoo shop. I didn't want to outshine his triumph with a small improvement.

Simy grinned, and his joy trebled. You remember me mentioning that guy Corey I met at the art walk a few weeks ago? I nodded, not remembering the details, just a familiarity with the name. Well, he was showing off his artwork, and we got to talking about that, and tats, and music. We kept in touch, and he just told me he's finally starting his own studio, and he wants me to be his partner.

Partner? That's amazing. That's very cool. I slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a half hug. We’d been friends long enough that neither of us felt awkward about my Amazonian stature. He fit well against my side, his five foot seven height perfect for this. When do you start?

He's got to finish converting his garage over, and I start helping him do that this weekend. Simy shrugged. When that's done, I guess we start.

That sounds really great. So what prompted the move to his house? We were stepping out of the brightly lit dojo and into the dimness of the little kitchen and breakfast nook. The air was heavy with the scent of roses, and I smiled softly to myself. The breakfast nook was cram packed with rose bouquets Varick had been sending me. Approaching the fridge to get a drink, I heard my kitten rustling through the drying flowers. And does he need licenses or anything?

Simy hopped up to sit on the edge of the linoleum counter, kicking his feet like a little kid. He's already got his license to do tattoos and piercings. He's been working on the business license for a while. He told me he'd gotten fed up with how trendwhore the shop he's at has become, and he doesn't want to work on ditzy bimbos and jocks. He's super serious about making his studio edgy, and about art, and a cool place to be. Our eyes locked over my glass of tea, and Simy's smile deepened. I was thinking we could put some of your art up on the walls.

I blushed, choking on my mouthful of liquid. The New Zealander laughed as I drew several ragged breaths. But every one of them ends up looking like Varick. I'd taken to digital art easily, especially with the graphic tablet my lover had given me, and had created nearly a dozen pin ups. No matter how I tried, or how different I colored the half-naked men, they invariably ended up looking like the German. Tall, lithe, with waist-length hair and sapphire eyes. Sometimes with scars, sometimes without, but always fierce and desirable.

That's not a bad thing, Simy said with a leer. He's damn gorgeous.

I blushed again, and my eyes turned to the roses in the nook. A dozen were already dried and back in their vases on the dinette table, the deep red now a crispy black color. Three other bouquets, always a dozen dark red roses, were hanging from the ceiling, drying out. He is at that, I murmured.

How soon does he get back? Simy got quiet, his accent thickening as he grew serious.

I tore my eyes from the roses, and the skulking shadow that was my cat. Not entirely sure. Last I heard, he and Serilda are getting close to done. They're waiting for some lawyers to finish signing all the stupid contracts. I missed Varick dearly, despite the daily delivery of roses. Thinking about our goodbye made me sigh.

Simy laughed, jumping off the counter. So, does that wistful sigh mean you don't feel all smothered by him?

Should I?

He arched one thick brow, his blue-green eyes dark. If I had a guy who, in less than six months, had given me this many roses, let me use his classic car, paid my bills, gave me a kitten, bought me whole kinds of computer stuff for my art, and gave glorious orgasms, I might be a tad weirded out.

I set my glass down and bounded into the nook as my kitten reached a paw for one of the dried blossoms. Shinobi, no. Golden eyes turned to me, and I scooped the fuzzy black kitten into my arms. He immediately began purring, curiosity happily replaced by cuddles. I rubbed his ears, thinking. He was my Christmas present from Varick, when we'd barely known each other. One of my Christmas presents.

The kiwi approached, poking me gently in the side. Is this serious, girl? Or are you two just playing around?

Shinobi protested softly as I lowered him to the ground, then sauntered away with his tail in the air. I don't know if it's serious, I whispered, not looking at my friend. I couldn't tell you Varick's intentions, not for sure, but I don't think he's merely fooling around. He's just not that kind of guy.

I turned, smiling, as Simy wrapped his arm around my waist. I love everything he does for me. Not just the material goods. And not just the sex, I added swiftly, sensing his lecherous questions forming. It's all of it together. I'm cared for, not smothered. I feel like his little princess. He's got all this wealth, and no one to spend it on. I think he's enjoying all this spoiling. I certainly enjoyed it, even if I wasn’t sure he was my boyfriend.

Simy leaned close, kissing my cheek. As long as you're happy, mate, that's all that matters. He spun away, heading back into the kitchen, pulling his jacket off. So what do you and Chris want for dinner?

I smirked. Simy was so easy going, and remarkably loving. When he was in a good mood, he wanted to share that joy with everyone. Since he especially liked cooking, that was his chosen medium for expressing his happiness. I hadn't gotten him to explain why; we all just accepted it as one of his things. Wish I could, I told him, but I've got a meeting tonight.

Though that wasn’t my only reason for skipping dinner. Since Varick and I had become regular lovers, he'd naturally made it a habit of feeding on me. At first I'd been ravenous and weak afterwards, but as I'd adjusted to being drained, my metabolism had shifted in the opposite direction. For a day or two after an intense feeding, I wasn't hungry, and had to force myself to eat. Sometimes for weeks after. I'd been recovering, albeit slowly, since he'd left, but I couldn't eat more than once a day.

I was keeping that quirk to myself for the time being, wanting to see if my metabolism changed again. I hadn't even told the German, and he'd been respectful enough not to say anything. Just one more thing I'm sure he didn't know was possible.

Simy lifted his eyebrows, pausing from pulling ingredients from the fridge. Another meeting? Like, for another job?

I grinned, stretching my arms behind me. Maybe another job. Some PI got my name, knew what I did, and called me about a book. I'll gladly take whatever he has.

Is he one of Varick's guys? Simy went back to preparing dinner.

I'm not actually sure how he found out about me. Before he'd left for Boston, Varick had made it known that I was open for business, as he'd put it. He'd given my name and skills to his web of contacts, spreading the word that I was available to help out with paranatural situations. So far, I'd already cleared out one haunting, and had a job in the wee hours of this night to stop gremlins. I was glad Varick had done so, and couldn't wait to thank him. One of the things I plan to ask him is how he found out.

Well, stop standing around. Go take a shower so you don't smell like a gym. Simy shooed me away with a smile. Winking, I turned and jogged up the stairs to my room. I pulled the band out of my hair, knowing I needed to get ready, yet all I could think about was Varick.

Chapter Two

Flipping on the light, I saw today's roses lying on my unmade bed. I smiled, cheeks heating with a blush, and tossed myself down beside the box. Six long-stem black roses lay amidst scarlet tissue paper, exuding their heady scent. Ignoring the sweat dying on my skin and the need to get ready to go meet the PI, I thought about the German and this past Christmas. Flushing, casually glancing at my posters and shelves of action figures, I pulled the box close.

I loved roses. Had ever since I was a kid. Varick had known since the beginning that I loved them without me ever having to tell him. And only them; other flowers were just delicate little things, meaningless to me. Despite their beauty, and their velvety petals, there was nothing delicate about roses. Everything about them was perfect, and I couldn't get enough of them. Varick could bring me a rose with every meal, and I'd smile deeply each time.

We barely knew each other, and yet we were absolutely comfortable around each other. It felt like we'd been together for years rather than months. I hadn’t mentioned to Simy that sometimes I did feel a little weird. Then Varick would do something sweet, bring me some gift that made me smile, and I’d only focus on how happy I was.

Lifting one of the inky black roses to my nose, I thought of that first one. I looked toward my desk, seeking the dried bloom. Varick hadn't teased me about drying and keeping it; he'd seemed rather surprised, actually.

His surprise had been pleasant, made me feel a little shy at first. Not keeping the first rose he’d given me was out of the question; I liked knick knacks and tokens of my adventures. No matter what happened between the vampire and I, I wanted to remember that happiness.

I'd finally come to the conclusion that modern girls didn't dry flowers, or keep little tokens of affection, and he’d maybe expected me to be the same way. Or he didn't know what to make of me either. I could understand the confusion, because I had been dealing with it since he left.

I missed him. Missed his smell, his touch, his mischievous smile that only I got to see. When he'd told me he and his sister had a business trip, I’d been fine with it, hadn't really cared about him leaving. It wasn't my place to say he needed to stay, or to take me with him.

Yet I'd longed for him almost immediately. It was hard to believe what a love-sick little girl I could be, but I'd spent time just sitting and pining for the vampire. Not that I let myself do that for long. There were much better things to do than mope and sigh, and I intended to do so.

Stroking the velvety petals, I put the rose down, and sat up. Taking a shower was one of those much better things. Stripping out of my workout spandex and tossing them toward the overflowing dirty clothes pile, I drew a deep breath. It felt good to be active, to be finding my own path. In some ways, my near death fighting Charles had been a rebirth. A few scars later, I was doing better than I had in the year previous.

One of the first things I'd done after Christmas was take Varick into my family archives. His eyes had been so bright with pride as I voluntarily entered a basement. Not a hint of the terror I’d had in the year following Aileen’s death, no sorrow or pain or anything. It was like I’d never been traumatized.

Then they'd lit with awe as I'd shown him all the books and antiques my parents had collected. He'd told me Serilda considered herself an amateur historian, and asked if she could peruse the books. I'd agreed, and in response, he'd promised to let me read through his collection.

Mom had left everything boxed up after we moved in, and the first time Serilda had heard about that, she explained that such knowledge should not be shunned. I'd felt chastised until her brother took the sting from her words with a kiss. Varick could always change my mood with a kiss.

The German had also commented that he recognized my family crest, yet he couldn't pin point it. He wanted to unravel the mystery, wanted to find out more about my family, so he'd asked Serilda to research it. His sister quietly accepted the task, and had started immediately, even as she started to catalog my family collection.

It had felt weird at first, having her ghosting around the house, but I'd quickly grown used to her. The female vampire had left for Boston a week before Varick, and I found myself missing her too. She was not quite what I'd imagined at first. Almost as tall as myself, with round hips and strong shoulders, she was a Valkyrie princess with knee length golden hair. Serilda's cold personality made Varick seem the epitome of kindness and friendliness.

My lover kept assuring me that she liked me, that she wasn’t that cold, but I wasn't completely convinced. I sometimes felt she thought I was taking her brother away, or that I was just some passing fancy of his, and would be gone in the morning. I hated not being able to read someone's emotions, feeling completely helpless and mundane.

Moving to the tiled bathroom, I passed one of the old books Varick had given me. He hadn't taken long to hold up his end of our bargain. It and the other one were in ancient German, all about his family line. The lore of das Weiße Klinge quickly engrossed me; the White Blade, a warrior who defied the edicts and soldiers of the church, protecting heathen lands from the mundane world. The description of the warrior, with long white hair and magnificent skills with the sword, made me think immediately of the vampire. I'd yet to ask him if he was this scion of the Eitenhauer line, but I couldn't think of it being anyone else. Why would he give me this history to read if it wasn't him?

Starting the shower, I thought of my other recent dreams. These put a smile on my face, made me feel warm and happy, rather than empty and scared. I was dreaming of das Weiße Klinge, living out what I read. Having become intimately familiar with Varick's body and fighting skills, it was all too easy for my imagination to create the vampire as this hero.

He'd been described as a heathen knight, and that's how I saw him in my dreams; savage, blood marking his pale skin, armored in fur and mail and leather, and fantastically beautiful. In my latest dream, he'd been fighting the witch hunters that had destroyed the Eitenhauer house, defending Serilda as she used her powers, dead church warriors strewn about him, blue eyes glowing with his ferocity. It wasn't fear that caused my heart to pound when I woke from that one, but pure lust.

Steam began to fill the air, and I stepped into the shower, sluicing sweat and dirt from my skin. Even as I began to wash, my mind went back to the vampire. I wanted to ask Varick all about my dreams and the books he'd given me, but he wasn't due to call yet. I was sure he'd let me read them just because he knew I'd want to question him.

There wasn't much in them that surprised me. Varick's family was one of power, and they'd clung to ancient traditions, eschewing the change to Christianity. They'd kept to themselves, guarding their little territory, helping those persecuted by the mundane, and studying their powers. The only thing that truly surprised me was that I'd never heard of them before. Even if the Crusades and Inquisition had helped bury those of talent, lore managed to survive. How had a family of such power been wiped from history so completely?

That thought made me frown, and I paused in the middle of rinsing my hair. Dad had told me that our family was ancient, our task handed down for generations. Help those who need you. I touched my necklace, the crest of the O'Broin family rendered in silver, water catching on the edges. Our family motto was such an ancient task that it had practically become part of our DNA. I couldn't fight the compulsion, and knew there was a reason I had my powers. I was meant to use my skills, and helping others fulfilled that need.

Yet if our family were so powerful, so old, and so active, why could I find no mention of the O'Broins? I'd eventually found mention of the Eitenhauers in a book Varick hadn't given me. They'd stuck mostly to themselves, unlike the O'Broins. How was it possible that a family that went out of its way to use its powers could be so completely absent from history? There was more known about ninja clans than my family.

And that bothered me. Varick had asked me once if I was some kind of exile, why I didn't know the rest of my family. All