Demon Master 2 (The Demon Master Series)

by Daniel Pierce

  Fury engulfed Elizabeth’s beautiful face as her teeth came together in a vicious snap. “Delphine. That worthless camp slut. That—I gave her life. I gave her training, the ability to feed, everything.” Anger at the betrayal swarmed her features, and she turned crimson with unbridled rage. The ghoul stood erect before her and turned slightly to allow Elizabeth to see the pale tattoo still lingering on a shoulder that was millennia old. An outline of antlers over a moon was lightly washed out from age, but still colored firmly in muted blues and ashen gray. It was primitive, and personal. Ancient feather marks in her skin fanned the image delicately, with edges that were graceful and soft. Elizabeth’s eyes rounded in open terror at this sight, and she accelerated to a blur, only to be caught in the ghoul’s merciless iron grip. Grasping both arms until they snapped under her hands, the ghoul drew nose to nose with her prey, opened her mouth, and with a single, savage bite, sank her fangs into Elizabeth’s neck and began to drink. Blood and saliva ran amok down the tattered bite wound as Elizabeth began to visibly shrink, while the ghoul pulsated with a deepening pink, and then a hot flush of red as she switched sides and bit again, this time nearly to the bone. Her strength was growing as she fed, glutting herself on the hot, black blood of the powerful prey in her grasp. With her feet off the floor, Elizabeth batted weakly at the claws holding her.

  In a dying moment of recognition, she said, “No, not you, not this. Esther, please.”

  Her feeding complete, Esther placed her crimson lips against a desiccated ear and growled, “Goodbye, Daughter.”

  56

  One Month Later: Ring

  “Oh my God, will you quit bogarting the pistachio?” Risa griped at Wally, who shared her ice cream cone after a final, sloppy lick.

  “Mmmm. Why didn’t I get pistachio?” She looked mournfully her strawberry malt. We were in the midst of what was the busiest ice cream parlor in the history of Florida apparently, as crowds of families jockeyed for position to get closer to the employees who were in the middle of a killer forearm workout. I was bolting huge spoonsful of a hot fudge peanut butter sundae with so much whipped cream on it that it teetered like a drunken sailor. With each step I took, our complicated dance of sharing went on as we negotiated the busy lines of customers, many who leered at our ice cream as openly as men usually stare at Wally. Or Risa, for that matter. We began to leave the shop, intending to stand around in the pleasant evening, eating ice cream while people watching, but that plan was interrupted when I bumped chest to chest, or chest to nose to be accurate, with an angry, sunburned, skinny little rat bastard in a huge hurry to go stand in line. Only sheer luck saved my sundae with not one bit of spillage, which meant that the incident wasn’t worth my time. I made to slide past him, but he had other ideas.

  “Fuck you lookin’ at, stretch?” he slurred, the cumulative effects of a day drinking beer in the sun making his tongue heavier than he imagined. I shrugged and spooned up another enormous portion of the sundae. He wasn’t going to break my focus, no matter how pissed he seemed. In a war for my attention, ice cream always won, unless it was a naked woman. Or two.

  He apparently wasn’t done, because he came back out through the door as onlookers inside began to sense that this might be a photo-worthy moment. I saw several phones at the ready in case some sort of violent hilarity ensued. Trust the general public to look out for their own interests as not a single one of them offered to hold my sundae in case things escalated.

  “Hey, boy! You and your skanks wanna answer me?” he asked us in a generalized sort of penis-waving challenge. I had to give the little guy credit; he was game.

  His sneer was brief because I simply pointed at Wally and said, “Me? No, although she might have an answer for you, dickhead, but I don’t think you’ll like what she has to say.” At my insult he snatched a look at Wally, who had ominously handed her lurid green ice cream scoop, cone and all, to Risa for safekeeping.

  In a stage whisper, Wally said, “One lick only, you piglet!” Then in a motion that the belligerent, sunburned soon-to-be-victim would probably have difficulty recalling for some time, if at all, she sidestepped like a dancer, closing the six feet between them, one hand cocked back, and drove her fist forward into his chin with a crack that sounded like a baseball bat hitting a ham. As he dropped to the asphalt, cheers erupted from within the store as Wally dipped in a demure bow and reclaimed her cone from Risa, casting a baleful eye first at the loudmouth punk on the ground, and then her ice cream, pronouncing the amount Risa had eaten as acceptable losses for the satisfaction of a public service well done.

  Before her first lick, Wally muttered, “He needed his manners,” and then proceeded as if nothing at all had happened.

  I froze in place, smacking my hand against my head in a cartoonish admission of my revelation. “Manners. Oh my God, Wally, you’re a genius.”

  “Manners? Yes, he needed them, but . . .” Risa trailed off, perplexed by my victorious expression.

  “Yes, manners,” I said, walking briskly now as I fumbled for my keys. “We have to get home and then pack a bag as fast as we can. This time, you’re both going with me, and we’re going to need a few things.”

  “Wait, what?” Wally barked in confusion. Risa didn’t say a word; she just climbed in as I fired up the Wagoneer and pulled out.

  “We’re taking a little trip. Tonight. Thanks to that little asshole lying on the ground, I know where Delphine is being hidden.”

  57

  Slovakia: Ring

  “Tell me again what we’re looking for? And why the hell am I carrying makeup?” Risa was unhappy. She had a backpack that was full, and at her size, it made hiking up the stony promontory a challenge.

  “There it is.” I paused and stared at the ruins. Bathory Castle was famous, or infamous, for all of the wrong reasons. Elizabeth Bathory, a small regent from four centuries earlier had been branded a witch, a murderer, and a countess who bathed in the blood of young women. I didn’t know what to think, other than the fact that our Elizabeth had felt compelled to take the accused’s name as a badge of honor. It didn’t bode well for the original Elizabeth’s guilt of at least some of the accusations.

  “Do you think she did it? All of the killing, the blood?” Wally asked, barely out of breath as we began to surmount the path to the ruins.

  Risa snorted. “A woman with status was always a target during that era. Look at what Europe was going through back then. Massive power struggles, a dirt-poor peasant population, and a few families holding the reins to the continent.”

  “So you think it was because of her gender, not her crimes?” I prodded. It kept us talking. And walking.

  “I’m not sure so sure, really . . .” Risa trailed off, shaking her head. “There really is a lot of unexplained death around here. And starting a charm school for local girls was—”

  “Creepy,” Wally interjected. “Very. Why do you want young girls around if you have ladies and staff? Very, very creepy.”

  I shrugged. There was blood here, all right, we could sense it. Something set Elizabeth Bathory on a course to ruin, and I was willing to bet it was our own personal Euro trash immortal that had been dispatched so easily a month earlier. Ethan’s call and description of Elizabeth’s death had been like lifting a yoke from our shoulders, and I had nearly shouted with joy at the news. It had been a different kind of life since being freed from her shadow, and I hoped we could do the same for Delphine. I only hoped that she still . . . existed, I guessed, and that she wouldn’t be too pissed that it took us this long to figure out what should have been a simple riddle. There were backpackers and tourists all over the structure, an oddly shaped wall that hugged the rocky point. In the center, roughly, stood the remains of what had been a tower.

  That’s where they kept the Countess, I thought, suppressing a shudder. Even across the centuries, I could feel the echo of something unholy. Maybe the stories were more than just true. Maybe they had been muted by time or filtered intentionally by someon
e or something that wanted the legend to die. Either way, the monster that had taken the name Elizabeth and carried it from this place was dead, and my relief was immense.

  “She won’t be near other people. She can’t be.” Risa was squinting into the sun, looking around at the well-worn paths and open spaces.

  “Where then? What about over there, those trees?” Wally pointed a long arm at the downward slope of the outcropping, which fell away to the next town. Reasonably heavy forest covered the hillside, and I had to admit, if anything, it was at least a little more private. We started picking our way over and down the rolling hummock, and in minutes we were surrounded by trees. The noise of the tourists tramping around fell away, and there were birdcalls. It felt right. We were closer.

  And then I saw it. A flat stone, like what would cover an old well or a cistern, rested fifty feet down the hillside, and there was a smudge of fresh earth next to it. It was partially obscured by underbrush, but I felt a jolt of recognition at the sight. She’s here.

  I pointed and began to lunge down the slope in a wild slide, prompting Risa to shout at me, “Don’t break your ankle! She’ll still be there, if that’s where she even is!”

  I came to a stop with a small avalanche of leaves and sticks, and more than a few chips of small stones that dotted the soil.

  “She’s here. I can feel her.” I began to heave with my shoulder, digging my feet into the earth for purchase and straining with everything I could muster. Wally joined me a second later, and then Risa, who squealed when the wide, gray stone slid with a rumble and crashed down the hillside.

  Delphine blinked up at us furiously as her eyes tried to adjust to the sunlight. Her hair was matted and rainwater filled the bottom foot of the well, but she was alive and only eight feet down, thanks to centuries of debris nearly topping the well from whatever its original depth had been. A wrist-thick chain wrapped around her small figure and was hooked to an enormous iron piton driven into the stone wall. Her mouth was bound with a leather strap, dark with saliva and her tears. Blood smeared the corners of her mouth. I felt rage surge within me as I jumped down in next to her, my legs absorbing the shock as my backpack bounced heavily against my shoulders.

  Tears welled up in her eyes and Risa called down, “We’re going to take you home.”

  Delphine nodded once in gratitude and dropped her head in exhaustion. It was frigid in the well and moss covered the rocks like a velvet blanket.

  “Hold still, I’m going to free you. I’m—I’m sorry we weren’t here sooner.” I removed a pair of bolt cutters from my backpack. They weighed nearly fifteen pounds. I had anticipated something like this; I knew Delphine would not sit mutely in a hole without being restrained. The metal jaws bit deeply into the thick chain and a musical clank echoed up the well as the links fell apart, bright metal glinting where I had broken the heavy iron. I cut the leather next, careful not to harm her any further, and for a second she sat, still as death, and then she collapsed against me as Risa and Wally shouted down encouragements from above. I lifted her unceremoniously and hoisted her up, in range of Wally’s long arm.

  In one heave, she was up and out of the prison, and I took the rope that Risa dangled and pulled myself quickly out into the creaking forest, thankful for the gulps of air that were blessedly free of water and rot. Wally and Risa surrounded Delphine, giving her water and wiping her face and arms with clean cloths. After a few minutes of effusive thanks and commotion, there was a lull as we all just sat in wonder at the fact that we were all alive.

  “She is dead, then?” Delphine asked hopefully. Her eyes were wary, and she looked spooked by her own shadow, but she would recover.

  “Very. Although that little magic floor nearly sent me to the looney bin.” I shook my head in remembrance at the effects of something as humble as wood and stone. “Risa found what you wanted us to see. Her name. Khoweta.”

  “Ugly, just like her soul,” Wally spat, flicking her fingers dismissively. Delphine leaned against Wally then, wavering, as if overcome with a spasm of weakness. “What is it?” Wally asked, alarmed.

  “I am—” she began, then stopped and dropped her head as tears began anew.

  “Hungry?” Risa was gentle with her question; there was no maliciousness, only concern.

  “Yesssss . . .” It came as a drawn-out sob, and Delphine’s small shoulders rocked with her tears. “I was alone, chained in that hole, and you came to me, you saved me, and I am not worth it. I am just as bad inside as she was. And now, all I can think of is feeding, and I just want to be back in that hole, as bad as it was, because I am so tired of bringing pain and death.” She dissolved into full, uncontrolled weeping, a woman who had millennia of guilt coming to roost all at once. It was excruciating to watch, and we all moved to her, compelled by her anguish.

  “I knew you would be. Hungry, that is.” Risa smiled at Delphine, who snapped her head up to look at us all, fear on her face.

  “What do you need?” I asked, but we all knew.

  Wally took Delphine’s hands and put them softly on my chest. “Ring is strong, and we trust you. But keep your clothes on. I do not think I could watch him have sex with you here in these woods. Some things I am not ready for yet. Or maybe never.” She leered at Delphine and then wagged a finger at me dramatically.

  Risa leaned back against a rock and Delphine asked hesitantly, “Maybe just some food? I will try anything first . . . what is in your pack, Risa?”

  Risa waved that off and said, “Later. For now, you have our blessings, but carefully. We want him whole.” A faint wolfish quality crept into her voice, and Delphine dipped her chin, and then turned to me.

  “You are certain?” Her voice was small but hopeful.

  “I am. It’s not like it won’t happen again, right?” Risa’s fist landed squarely in my shoulder, and I laughed, then the woods got very quiet at that second and I saw the sensual concentration spread across Delphine’s exquisite features. Here it comes. It was a strange sensation, rather like waiting for a train to hit you and knowing that you would survive, and then the shadowy tendril spread from her chest, not her hand, and ducked swiftly in the place right over my heart. It was electric, sexual, a total mind-melting second of the purest ecstasy, and pulsating lights began to flow from me toward her. And then they stopped.

  She frowned in frustration, and I realized that was strong enough to deny her the ability to feed, so I reached inside my own mind, deep in the recesses, and pushed. Dancing fragments of light began to wick away into her chest, and skin that had been pallid from captivity began to glow with a healthy radiance. I saw her lips part and knew that the sensations were going to run away with our judgment, so I simply reversed the command within my mind and the messenger tendril went inert, then dark, and then vanished silently. Delphine coughed and shook once, her eyes widened as she returned to us, flushed and hale once more.

  “You—you resisted me, and then you controlled me. You could have taken from me without my permission!” She was agape at this new trait I now possessed.

  “It’s news to me.” I was still shaken from the intensity of our sharing.

  Risa looked thoughtful. Wally was relieved, then flashed with anger, and then gained her control back, all in a matter of seconds.

  “Are you well, now?” Risa asked, looking at Delphine in a new light.

  “I feel fine, much better. Thank you . . . thank you for trusting me.” She was on the verge of tears again.

  “Then let us give you the next thing you need,” Wally said, and unzipped Risa’s backpack. She began to spread out facial wipes, some makeup, a toothbrush, and a sundress, pulling a collapsible sun hat out last before Delphine’s whoop of laughter startled her.

  “Oh my God! How did you know?” Delphine cried out in utter joy.

  “Psshht. You’re a woman. You were in a well. It was dirty. End of story.” Risa seemed embarrassed but accepted the hug from a woman who had, up until recently, been considered someone to fear. “Let�
�s get you into your tourist outfit and get the hell out of here.”

  On that, we could all agree, and the walk back up the hill didn’t seem quite so bad that time. I looked back at the castle once, and then after a while, even the tower was gone.

  Epilogue

  Ring

  I was still breathing heavily from my run when I sat down at the table overlooking the water and sand. Hollywood Beach was my home turf, and I people watched while I ran up and down the boardwalk. The stretch of beach was covered with tourist traps, bars, and cafés. Like any other run, I simply went until I was tired, picked a spot, and sat down to have a drink and savor the scenery. The waitress hadn’t made her way over when I sensed someone nearby.

  And then my guest joined me.

  She was young, maybe eighteen, of medium height, thin, and very beautiful with an exotic quality that fit her well. With long, coal black hair and pale skin, she seemed out of her element at the beach. There was a hint of something Asiatic in her eyes, but the color was green, and when she smiled it was a sunny but awkward expression, like she was trying it on her face for the first time.

  “Hello, Ring.” Her voice was musical but disjointed, and an accent lingered underneath it. From where, I couldn’t tell.

  “Hello? And you are . . .?” I smiled back, noticing how stiffly she sat in the chair, looking down at her shoes and then back at me and in general drinking everything in at once. Esther. It hit me like a wave. She was nothing more than a child, but she must have been older than anything on the continent save the mountains themselves. “Esther,” I said, smiling, “You clean up nicely.”