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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Raven Prate Assassin Spy

  Copyright 2015 by Landra Graf

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-895-7

  Cover art by Tibbs Designs

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

  Look for us online at:

  www.decadentpublishing.com

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hello Readers,

  Thank you for reading Raven Pirate Assassin Spy. From the moment I was assigned my fairytale I knew this book would take place in an alternate history, specifically a history where Germany won the first world war and Nikola Tesla wasn't a pacifist. From there it didn't take much to arrive at my headstrong heroine, Sorella and her journey to find her brother. This book was a joy to write, research, and create. I hope you get lost in the world as much as I did.

  Of course I'd love to know what you think and if you believe there's room for another story. Tell me everything at [email protected].

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  What You Need

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  Raven Pirate Assassin Spy

  Once Upon A Time...

  Sorella Corvino lost her brother to The Cursed years ago. Sorella is so determined to find him, she'll make any deal, rescue the outcasts and those like him, and risk flying into any port to rescue him. When her latest pirate efforts partner her with a bounty hunter who's too charming, sexy, and handsome for his own good, she knows she's in trouble.

  Ian Marshall no longer believes in fairy tales…

  Disowned and a marked criminal in the United States, this merchant turned bounty hunter, is one bounty away from freedom; and freedom's price is handing over one person to the most cutthroat gang in the world, The Cursed. Yet, he can't get to them without Sorella's help. Too bad she's gorgeous, aggravating, and a little trigger happy.

  As the attraction mounts, the danger grows and the pair find themselves invading a skin trader den, the ballrooms of dictator-ruled Germany, and fighting battles in the sky in the hopes of getting everything they want. Only thing they didn't plan on... falling in love.

  Dedication

  To LS, CP, LE, MM, and AL - you lift me up and keep me writing.

  To my daughter, Future Rockstar, you can read this when you're older.

  To my husband, thank you for supporting me, even when the idea sounds crazy.

  To my son, Detective Masterbuilder, dreams can come true… snuggle snuggle puffle puff

  Raven Pirate Assassin Spy

  A Beyond Fairytales Story

  By

  Landra Graf

  Prologue

  New Orleans

  1936

  Gretchen pulled the scratchy half-blanket tight around her shoulders and took a step closer to the fire, a small orange blaze inside a busted metal pot. What little heat came out warmed her bare legs, her threadbare cotton dress barely coming past her knees. She didn’t have long, mere minutes, before mother noticed her gone, snuck off to hear the storyteller again. Except he wasn’t on the small stool set against the wall like normal. If he didn’t appear soon, she’d have to leave.

  “Please,” she whispered, her breath visible in the chilled night air blowing in from the coast.

  The answer to her plea—a cat’s loud howl. Startled, she looked away from the fire.

  “Come for a tale, little one?” He squatted onto the stool, no taller than her. He’d a long beard, gray and grizzled, like the tangles of wires her older brother tried to straighten. His voice was scratchy; her mother said it happened because the storyteller loved to puff on the steel pipe he kept in his jacket pocket.

  “Yes, Nicodemus.” She loved his stories, the tales he’d share. It didn’t matter if they were real or not; they gave her something to think about besides being tired or hungry.

  “Then gather close. Warm yourself by the fire, wee one. For a gift, I’ll tell you one of my favorites.”

  Searching, Gretchen looked all around, down at the ground, over her shoulder. What could she give, for she had nothing? Then she leaned in and pecked a kiss on his wrinkly cheek.

  He smiled. “Thank you. You’ll need a special tale for such a special gift.” He stroked his beard, eyes focused on the flames licking the air in front of them. “Once upon a time, there lived a girl born to parents who’d prayed for a daughter but never expected one.”

  “Was she special?”

  Nicodemus tapped her hand with two fingers. “So special a band of thieves kidnapped her when she was a tiny thing, not much younger than you are. Her parents had no choice but to trade her brother in exchange for her safe return. The girl’s future would crown her the queen of a kingdom upon her wedding day. With black hair, pale skin, and eyes as deep blue as the Mediterranean Sea, she’d be Europe’s true jewel.”

  “I’ve never been to the Meditearret…Med… the sea.”

  “Why would you? It’s thousands of miles away, and you have the Gulf right at your fingertips. You have no doubt seen the water that washed along those shores, for it travels long distances over time, more so than people.” He chuckled. “Now, do you want to hear the re
st?”

  “Yes.” She blushed. Even her mother said she always spoke too soon, no hesitation.

  “The would-be princess didn’t want her throne and ran away, searching for her lost brother and hoping to rescue him like he had saved her all those years ago.”

  Gretchen put her hand to her chest, trying to rub out the ache the story put there. To care about someone so much, to be cared for—

  “Greta-girl!” Her mother’s high-pitched yell echoed down the alleyway.

  She ignored the call and looked back at Nicodemus, who puffed on his pipe, curls of smoke wafting into the air. Tugging on his coat sleeve, she asked, “Where is the princess?”

  Before he uttered a reply, a hand clasped around her arm and yanked. With her free hand, her mother cuffed the back of her head. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Left your brother to do your work for you? We’ll see how you like not eating then.”

  Gretchen rubbed her eyes to keep the tears from flowing.

  Mother spat on the ground at Nicodemus’s feet. “Stories.” The word sounded like something cursed. “A bunch of drivel and a waste of time. Back to work, girl.”

  The words came with a shove to Gretchen’s back, and she nearly fell, face first, as she took those few stumbling steps forward. Somehow she managed to stay upright and start the trek back to the busy main roads. The roads where her mother searched for a buyer, where she’d have to worry about being sold, and where no would save her.

  Chapter One

  Pontevedra, Spain

  1936

  Sorella Corvino only made promises she kept. So when she told the crumb in the next cell, “Once I get out of here, I’m going to kill you,” those were words of truth, not fiction.

  The evil bastard leaned forward, mere inches from the bars, and grinned. “I prefer my bits handled by a gorgeous dish, but, in a pinch, you’ll do.” His six yellowed teeth stabbing up through pinkish-white gums were a stark contrast to his soot-colored skin and graying eyes, the gray no doubt a product of the drugs and rotgut sold on every corner in Pontevedra. No one escaped the filth and poison festering in the streets of every European city unscathed.

  “In your dreams.” She stepped toward him, eyes narrowed. Maybe she wouldn’t wait until she got out.

  “That’s what your girl is dreaming of tonight. Me and my co—”

  She slid her hand between the bars and grasped the part of his anatomy he wanted to talk about in every other sentence, effectively cutting him off. Her grip firm, he started to drop. The cell wall made it impossible for her hand to follow without getting burned by the electric current pulsing through the bars. Even now, the hairs on her arm stood up, and she let go before her skin touched electrified metal.

  “Bitch!” he howled, clutching at himself, his black dreads spread across the cell floor like brittle, charred ropes.

  “You deserve that and a whole lot more.” She rubbed her arm to clear away the lingering static electricity. What she wouldn’t give her for a Tesla coil gun or an electo wand right now. The damn jailers took everything, even her balisong knives—all three pairs. They’d had fun searching her, treating her like a female toy, though they were bored after a few touches. She tugged on her buckskin pants to expel the memory.

  So much for putting into port and getting a job. The idiot in jail with her had ruined all her good intentions of securing a contract by attempting to rape one of her crew. She’d jumped on him as soon as she’d heard Lila, the doctor’s nurse, call out. Her first mate, Bastille, had seen to the girl, removing her from the scene while Sorella took out the threat. She’d almost accomplished the task until a bystander hit her with a bottle and got a reward for turning in two “disrupters of the peace.”

  How am I getting out of here? Like all good questions, hers was answered by the unexpected. The jail door at the top of the stairs opened, and an unconscious guard rolled down into the dark keep. Her rescuer took each step with care, no light illuminating the way. Yet, it wasn’t another jailer or Bastille. Each heeled touch to wood let out a short metal snick. She’d never heard such a thing before.

  She nearly shouted, but her jailmate did the work for her.

  “Who’s there?” The question came out as grizzled as he looked.

  No response, besides those measured, clinking steps. As she searched the dark, the mystery person came into view. Boots, pants, and a long jacket, not enough light to determine the color. Then the glint of a revolver at the waist, courtesy of the small trail of moonlight filtering through the tiny hole of a window at the top of the concrete wall behind her. She failed to make out much more than a male upper body with a square-jawed face, and…he wasn’t looking at her.

  The invader hunched down next to the collapsed guard and placed two fingers at his neck, no doubt ensuring the fool was dead. The intruder’s hair was shorter than the poorer classes usually wore it, which bespoke money, yet his clothes of leather, un-shined, weren’t fine.

  He stood up, straightened his belt, and positioned himself in front of the other cell. “Tuul Machenk?”

  “Yes.” The scum had a name and, surprisingly, claimed it.

  “The Cursed have a bounty on your head. You’re coming with me.”

  She couldn’t let that happen. Not now. “Wait a minute.” Stepping toward the cell corner, Sorella armed herself with her most compelling feature, a smile. “You can’t kill him. I’ve already told him he’d die by my hands. Let me kill him, and you can have the body.”

  “Look here, pretty lady. He’s wanted alive.” He unhooked an electo wand from his belt. “So we’ll be leaving without a drop of blood spilt.”

  One problem solved. Now she’d need him to help her solve the other difficulty—finding The Cursed. “Fine. Then let me help you.”

  “How do you figure on doing that?” His lips slightly tilted, like he wanted to smile and seemed to be trying his best not to. All the while, his fingers and palm worked the dial at the wand’s base.

  “Do you have a plan to get him out of here?” She raised both eyebrows challenging him. Sure he’d knocked out one guard, but there were more where that one came from. Not to mention street hawkers who’d love to get checkers for stopping escapees. “Because, if you don’t, I sure do.”

  ***

  When Ian Marshall first walked into the jail, he’d expected a fight. Yet only one sentry stood on duty, one guard, a boy more than a man, for someone The Cursed claimed was too dangerous to be left to his own devices.

  The rolling down the stairs bit had been an accident. To make sure he hadn’t killed the kid, he checked for a pulse. It was there, but thready. No time to get the fool medical help.

  Turning his attention toward the cells, he’d sized up his bounty, a grizzled, more-bone-than-flesh man who stood a few inches shorter and possessed eyes with more intelligence than he let on.

  Ian hadn’t planned on the feisty, mysterious woman in the other cell. She smiled. A perfect, white-toothed smile signaling trouble. Teeth like that rarely existed in war-ravaged Europe. Those who had them were in society’s upper echelons, and if you were found with a rare, flawless pearl set, you’d be claimed and sold. Hell, he’d seen men kill to possess a person with unspoiled teeth.

  He refused to mess with such a problem. Nope, he’d split with the bounty he came for and leave Trouble in her cell. She’d asked if he had a plan, but it didn’t matter that she’d caught him flying by the seat of his cross seams. With a will came a way, and surviving the past few years had taught him he’d always find a way. So he ignored her.

  “Step back, and I’ll get you out of there.” He finished setting the electo wand to EMP.

  Tuul grinned in response. The man wasn’t going to do a damn thing he said. Thankfully, he had a backup plan. He reached into his pocket and gripped the collar stuffed inside. He’d have to move fast.

  The wand touched the bars. The current running through them sparked and then died. Switching to the heat se
tting allowed him to melt the lock. Once the lock was melted, his target charged the door with a growl. Ian stepped back and readied for the impact, moving himself out of the door’s swinging path and removing the collar from his pocket.

  Before the bastard could reach him though, the girl burst between them, shoving her fist into Tuul’s face and knocking him back into the cell.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  She marched forward into the cell, stomping on the prostrate man’s bits with her boot heel. “Killing the scag like I promised him I would.”

  “Wait! Let’s talk about this.”

  “What’s to talk about?” she asked, wrapping Tuul’s dreadlocks around her hand.

  No time like the present to be charming, especially since she’d exposed the scag’s neck and looked ready to snap it. “Who are you, and why do you want this man dead?”

  The questions put a halt to her actions. “I’m the captain of the Liberté, and this man tried to rape one of my crew.”

  Hard to argue against revenge when the scumbag deserves it. Then another thought came to mind. “Captain, eh?”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Yes, what of it?”

  “He,” Ian pointed at the scag, “is worth a lot to The Cursed. You’ve heard of them?”

  If she hadn’t, she wasn’t a true sky captain.

  “Hasn’t everyone?”

  “All right, you give us a ride, and I give you part of the reward.” She didn’t need to know the payment involved his freedom and not coin. His little deception could be solved later, as long as he got her to release the man and secure the collar on him. Hopefully, they’d negotiate, or at least strike a temporary truce. Their immediate problem of getting out of the area without getting caught would be solved by her accepting his offer.