Demon Master 2 (The Demon Master Series)

by Daniel Pierce

  Over her shoulder, Wally yelled, “Risa, Kevin’s here. And she’s here, too.”

  “Bullshit,” echoed Risa’s voice from within the kitchen. “Seriously?”

  In answer, Wally grunted as we all shuffled inside, an odd silence descending around the usually jovial priest and our own resident succubus escort. Risa stood, hands on hips and eyes goggled at our motley assembly. Her gaze darted to and from all of us, finally settling on Delphine, to whom she offered a curt nod, thought better of it, and then extended her hand in greeting.

  “Delphine, please excuse me for being rude. Come in, and no, it’s not too early for wine. A rather large glass, I would think,” Risa added, warming to the moment, if not the guest.

  Kevin remained befuddled for a second, and then his eyes brightened and rounded as he took the measure of a woman whom he had been told was, for all intent, older than God. He was quick, and it appeared to be nothing more than a happy accident that he and Delphine had arrived on each other’s heels. Wally snagged a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator while Risa pulled glasses down from the hanging rack under the cabinet. Kevin suddenly became aware of the fact he was holding a basketball and set it on the counter, placing a finger on top to assure it remained obedient, then thought better of it and put it on the floor.

  We delivered matching shrugs, and then Delphine broke the stiff silence by saying, “Can we sit by the water?”

  And that, it seemed, was an idea all five of us could agree to, so we made our pilgrimage, Gyro in tow, to the dock.

  “I’m Delphine, Father, and it’s my pleasure to see you today.” She extended a hand to the still shell-shocked priest who recaptured his sense of decorum and took her hand lightly. He smiled at her in wonder, and if he had been bolder, I think he may have pinched her arm to verify her presence among us. She read his thoughts and said with a laugh, “I assure you, I’m quite real.”

  Kevin’s shoulders lifted and fell with silent laughter, and he took a moment to drink it all in before responding in a kind voice. “And I can assure you that I believe that to be true, despite what my face may betray. Give me a minute, and I’ll regain my sense of reality.”

  Delphine inclined her head gracefully, and Risa began to bustle about with wine. I waved it off, intent on playing basketball without any freshly acquired inability to maintain my balance, but when I saw Kevin accept a glass, I held my hand out to Risa, who obliged me.

  Wally smiled with minor reservation at our circle and said to Kevin, “Father, you ask things first. We know Delphine, but you do not, and I think you have many, many questions to ask while I drink this excellent wine.”

  Put on the spot, Kevin asked Delphine, “Do you have a soul?”

  It was unexpected. Or perhaps, it was expected, because she answered him without pause. “I do. And I care very much for its resting place.”

  Kevin nodded to himself, apparently pleased with that answer. “There are . . . virtually limitless things I would ask you, but I’ll spare you an interrogation from a scholar whose world just went from flat to round. But-- could you tell me who you think Elizabeth is becoming, and give me your best guess as to her chances of succeeding at a transformation, for want of a better term?”

  She ticked off items on her hand as she spoke, methodical and intense. “First, Elizabeth is not the only person experiencing change; I think it should be obvious at this point that we all are.”

  “No shit. Ring looked like death after your last—” Risa interjected, then caught herself but continued anyway, “date, I guess. Suma gave him a powerful painkiller for his headache, but I think he would have shaken off your effects regardless. Once he was awake, he regained his overall health in a matter of minutes. Sorry, Father,” she added absently. He waved her off with a smile.

  Delphine looked at me curiously, and Wally interjected, “Were you sick, too, after a night with Ring?” Her question was directed pointedly at Delphine, who nodded sheepishly.

  “I felt unusual, yes, but by lunch I was returned to my previous state, and I concluded that Ring, and by extension, you two, Wally, Risa—all of you are becoming a bit less mortal, and therefore harder to kill.” Delphine nearly blushed at this.

  “I do not like how you found this out, but I like being tougher,” Wally said, and flexed her arm muscles for show.

  “Badass, indeed,” I said, and poured her some more wine as a further apology for my night of sacrifice.

  “What’s the second point, Delphine?”

  She continued. “Yes, to the second and the most important issue in my estimation. This is also the least clear, but I believe that her chances of success are nearly zero.” That little ray of sunshine got our attention, but Delphine held up a finger to still our questions, and we let her go on uninterrupted. “Now, to clarify your third question, Kevin, and yes, you asked three; Elizabeth may very well transform far beyond her current form, but it won’t be enough to gain her what she wants. This is hardly her first attempt at supremacy, or advance rather, but her failures before have been spectacular, and there is an additional obstacle facing her this time that makes me think she is actually quite close to the end of her imaginary reign.”

  We were collectively thrilled and confused by this line of thinking, and Wally turned her hands palms up in an enormous shrug. “How is this true? She can be strong, and she can be something new, but we beat her? I do not understand.”

  That makes two of us, I thought. I couldn’t see an end game where this turned out well in which Elizabeth mutated yet fell short of her goals. It was beyond me. And then Delphine gave voice to the option that I had not considered because I don’t think about losing, I only think about the cost of winning.

  “Oh, be assured, Elizabeth will change, there’s nothing we can do to stop that fact, just as you are altered by my proximity. I said that she will fail, and in a grand fashion, but I did not say that we would all be there to witness it. You see, in the plainest terms, to kill a demon of Elizabeth’s standing is going to require more than a simple investment of blood and some healing, followed by commiseration while we regain our strength. No”—she shook her head vehemently, sending gold hair waving in denial of our fortunes—“killing Elizabeth will cost a life. Somehow, in some manner, a life must be paid, I think, in order to do the world a very great good. And I, for one, am willing to pay it, even it is mine.” She looked defiantly out over the water, and I knew that she was speaking of more than simple probabilities. She was speaking based on experiences as well as a history awash with loss. All of her perspective had sprung from the Elizabeth’s irresistible growth into whatever the thing was that we were now seeking to kill. I felt a pit yawn under my feet as a series of realities flashed past me, each one less palatable than the last.

  “Delphine,” Kevin began cautiously, “I sense that you have some idea of how Elizabeth can fail, but let me ask you, as our resident expert, what happens if she succeeds?”

  “She will swiftly move to consolidate power, and that will involve killing everyone sitting here,” Delphine said bluntly. “She will not tolerate any whisper of a former challenge, and make no mistake, Ring’s knife buried in her corporeal body was the most egregious action she has tolerated during my entire existence. Elizabeth does not allow mistakes. She punishes them, and we here are an error in judgment that her pride will not allow to continue past her ascension.”

  “Ascension?” Risa asked. “Would she reign or just carve out partial dominance?”

  Delphine chewed on that, clearly running through different outcomes. “Complete victory, I think, but perhaps not immediately. Remember, Elizabeth is planning over the horizon. She does not think like you do, not even like I do actually. Although we are both effectively immortal, I am not actively seeking the throne, so to speak, and in that, our goals diverge so completely that any comparison or supposition based on what I might do is pure speculation.”

  “But you feel that we can win?” I asked, still more than a little confused.


  “I do, Ring. I do because of what you three are capable of, and I know we can win due to what I am capable of. No disrespect intended, Kevin.” She tipped her glass at him in a gesture of acknowledgment that still managed to be sexually charged.

  Kevin noticed, and so did Wally, who narrowed her eyes, but only for a moment.

  Kevin raised an inquisitive finger and asked, “Delphine, am I correct in assuming that Elizabeth is not the only, er, immortal, vying for this control? Of whatever realm is being contested?”

  “You are perceptive, and yes, you are correct. There are many, many usurpers at any time, but only the strongest and most amoral are capable of mounting a serious campaign. Simply stated, the discipline and investment required to do so is enormous, and many of the Undying think only of immediate gratification,” Delphine answered.

  That tickled a memory for me, something about rising tides, and I asked, “Two things are still escaping me. One, how does Elizabeth keep losing? And the second thing that troubles me, does the power she builds during these run-ups to an assault on whoever is in charge of the Undying, what happens to it? Does it fade, or does some of it remain with her? Or, worst case scenario, does she keep all of the power, like a talent that she doesn’t forget?”

  Delphine made to answer, but Kevin interrupted her with a gentle hand on her arm. “A point to add, if I may? Is there any resistance to these campaigns, for lack of a better term?”

  “Resistance? To Elizabeth?” Delphine asked.

  Kevin answered, “I would find it unusual if the current hierarchy would allow someone as determined as Elizabeth to assault the castle, over and over, with no attempt at defense.”

  It was a legitimate concern, but the look on Delphine’s face bordered on anger until she regained her mannerly façade. “And what, may I ask, do you think I have been doing for these three millennia?”

  Kevin was a stalwart. He didn’t shrink from Delphine calling us on underestimating her. He said, “Let me expand my question then. Who else other than you has engaged Elizabeth over her forays, then?”

  Delphine held out her hands and began to tick imaginary combatants off, one by one. “Demons. Lords. Warriors of every shape and size. I’m fairly certain that Achilles and Patroclus thwarted her some seven centuries ago, although in truth, they may not have been doing so intentionally. Elizabeth made the grave error of enabling a mass invasion from the east, which just happened to threaten the sprawling estates Patroclus spent the better part of a century building, cultivating, and organizing. I visited once; it was as close to heaven on earth as is possible, a small area of beauty and peace.”

  “What did Elizabeth invite east?” Risa asked

  “No less than the Golden Horde. They plunged west and south into Thrace, where Patroclus had created his minor kingdom during a rare instance of his choosing to settle down and establish a home. Never let it be said that Elizabeth doesn’t think in grand terms.” Delphine smiled thinly. The Mongol invasions had been enormous. As to what machinations had enabled Elizabeth to draw them to Thrace, I couldn’t begin to imagine, but simple greed might have been a key element.

  “What happened to the beautiful kingdom that they built?” Wally asked.

  “Ahh, that is a lesson for the ages,” Delphine began, with a wide grin. “The Mongol raiding parties were immense, small armies in comparison to the rest of the world’s concept of war, but Achilles had a tightly knit, highly skilled militia, who were also vintners and smiths in their spare time. Numbering nearly a thousand, they were elite, local, and most of all loyal force who were fighting using very unsavory tactics, all while in their own lands.”

  “The Myrmidons?” I asked, referencing the classical force under Achilles.

  Delphine shook her head. “I don’t think they had a name, but they had a symbol on their chests, an engraved amphora with a curled hammer on either edge. It was more artwork than identification, very pretty. I’m sure Patroclus designed it. He’s a brilliant craftsman, but the end result of the Mongol raid was quite gruesome. When Achilles finished with them, there were no living members of the invaders, so their horses were sent back from whence they came with bulging sacks, filled with the heads of the officers Achilles personally slew on the field. I believe that a single foreign commander was spared, for what reason I cannot imagine since I have no doubt that Achilles’ blood was running hot that day. Perhaps he sent the vanquished general with a message, or maybe he felt sorrow at someone who had been so utterly crushed. Needless to say, despite whatever Elizabeth offered as rewards, the Golden Horde found the loss of several thousand elite cavalry incentive enough to look for low-hanging fruit in other directions.”

  Kevin whistled appreciatively, and we all toasted that bit of history. Achilles must be an even better commander than fighter, and that was rarified air, indeed.

  Kevin spoke up, asking, “Has Elizabeth ever been attacked by . . . beings, things which are not human?”

  Delphine’s mood seemed diminished as she answered. “A host of them, in fact. Creatures I know nothing of and have heard nothing about since their defense against Elizabeth’s predations. The list is impressive, it is extensive, and it is utterly meaningless. You are here now, all of you, and the fact that she is willing to cultivate another long-term plot with you squarely in the middle tells me that, without a doubt, she regards you three as something worth her personal attentions, which seems only fair, since I think it is reasonable to assume she had a hand in creating your team. Do you agree?”

  I knew that, at an instinctive level, it was true. Wally and Risa nodded along with me, and Delphine grimaced, not entirely pleased to be correct because that meant that beyond any doubt, she would be in on the fight that was coming.

  Wally asked sadly, “Is it too late to save the people she calls her Archangels?”

  Delphine answered slowly in a voice laden with regret. “It is. It was too late a decade ago, even a score of years perhaps, when she began grooming, perverting, and tormenting the poor souls she is using even as we speak. They cannot be saved, I am afraid, but we can spare them further torture, should we find them, and I think it is paramount that we locate them soon. The less influence she has over them, the less hatred and power she generates, it is all a part of her feeding from them, for lack of a better word. She will stand on the piles of their broken souls, their tears, and their blood, and she will reach for victory. She will grasp at the next rung of the ladder that leads straight to hell, and she will do it with rancorous delight.”

  Wally stood, holding the now-empty wine bottle, and announced, “Well, then we will stop her, but this time, we will not use the same knife. We must find a much sharper weapon, I think.”

  Delphine’s eyes flashed with anger as she said, “Or an older one.”

  32

  The Archangel Tyler

  “There’s barely any fucking furniture. If I knew I was going camping, I would’ve brought my own stuff,” Tyler pouted, full of bravado for the moment while Dieter looked at him, braiding boredom and revulsion in one glance. “Well? Are you gonna fix it? Or am I gonna sit on the fucking floor?”

  Later, Tyler couldn’t remember the exact way the scene had played out, but he knew that it was brief, violent, and ended with Dieter looking at him with disgust from above. The banker, glancing at his watch, had calmly informed Tyler that he would receive what Elizabeth determined was necessary, when she thought it necessary, and if she thought it necessary. Then, in a savage jerking motion, he had torn Tyler’s shirt from his body and commanded him to stand still.

  Tyler, suddenly cooled by fear, had stood for a shivering moment. Dieter then informed him that he would have a guest soon, and in the interest of keeping his tongue, his language would have to become much more civil. Tyler agreed, suddenly overwhelmed by a survival instinct that told him talking was going to get him killed, or worse.

  He was filthy from the trip and the degrading way he’d been treated. He wandered the house, which was no
w his, and found a fully appointed bathroom upstairs along with a bed and linens. The room was immense, and the bed was placed near the double windows that ran floor to ceiling. Further investigation revealed some clothes, and the bathroom had everything he needed. He shed his pants, still stained from the wet grass of the easement. Had that been yesterday? Or a week ago? He found that he couldn’t remember; the facts danced away from his mind just as he seemed close to clearing the haze that shrouded parts of his memory.

  The easement. I was hurt there, he thought, looking involuntarily at his hands, which were a bit sore, but seemed okay. He stepped into the shower and sighed with intense contentment as the water pulsed against him. This might be okay. I think I’ll be okay here. Where is here? After a long moment, even that question faded into oblivion, and soon he stood dripping in front of the long windows where the sun fell on his face. The sensation quelled his doubts, his loneliness, and he began to towel off, wondering what, exactly, he had been so nervous about on the trip here. Looking out with curiosity, he saw that his new home sat a short distance from another grand pile, all white brick and iron rails, and directly in front of his gaze a man, with dark eyes, a cruel mouth, and a thin beard, stood looking at him hungrily, then looked away, but only for a second, as his eyes slid back onto Tyler, who once again began to shiver.

  33

  Florida: Ring

  It’s time to step back, I thought, with the sun on my face as I looked out over the lapping water of the canal. I used to think we were heading for something unknown, but that was no longer true. What we faced was clear, concise, and unrepentantly evil. It made things easier, despite the possible cost, which according to Delphine, would be paid in blood. I rinsed my coffee cup and looked at the forms of Risa and Wally sitting on the seawall where they shared a plate of bakery bread smeared with jam. Looking at them, things seemed exceedingly normal, even dull if you discounted their beauty. But I knew that in the undercurrents of their minds, they were thinking just as I was.