Demons Imps and Incubi (Red Moon Anthologies Book 1)

by Cori Vidae

  A soft, bubbly, chittering sounded in his head. Nearby, outside. It paused, then sounded again, closer. Oily dread churned in his stomach. He blinked at Kiki. She frowned at him, head tilted.

  “Benji? You okay?”

  He grabbed his book and stood. “I’m sorry. I have to go. It’s… there’s something I need to do.” His heart lurched at the guarded look in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Kee. I can’t explain right now.”

  She nodded stiffly. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah. No worries. Thanks for the drink. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

  “Tuesday, yeah.” He was out the door within seconds, his head filling with a rising wave of insectile clicks and buzzes. His whole body itched. He shivered with the urge to rip through his skin and flee. Sunglasses in place, he lowered his inner eyelids and searched for the source.

  There. Up the street, far past the still-bustling flea market. The man who’d been molested by the enthralled woman walked stiffly, hesitantly. Putrid yellow-green smoke drifted up from his eyes. His head swung slowly side to side. Something dark marred the left side of his face and neck. His shirt was stained black at the shoulder.

  The man stopped and looked directly at Benji. The chittering in Benji’s head turned into shrieks and his throat constricted. He backed away to the side of the building and ducked into a narrow passageway. Just before he disappeared behind the corner, he saw the man turn to follow between storefronts.

  Benji fumbled his phone out as he half staggered, half ran toward the alley behind the stores. He mashed his thumbs on the screen, breath ragged: Ancient One. Main St. Come now.

  The response came seconds later: Be there in five.

  Benji almost fell into the cluttered alley. His skull felt like it would split under the assault of the angry wailing in his head. He sagged against a greasy dumpster. The smell of rotting food and his adrenaline overwhelmed him. He vomited up his latte, shaking.

  A shadow crept overhead. Seeping blackness, like smoke but somehow alive, blotted out the sunlight between the buildings. It reached past Benji and sealed off the alleyway for another dozen yards. Any humans looking this way would see only that the alley seemed particularly shadowy; non-humans would be invisible to them. They’d feel the need to avoid the place without even realizing it. A full-on battle could rage unnoticed in this breathing darkness.

  The molested man stepped out from between buildings far down the alley. He stood slump-shouldered, head down. The sickly smoke seeping from his eyes quickly became the only source of light around him. He staggered forward.

  As he drew nearer, Benji picked out the details that revealed how he’d died. Red furrows raked across the triangle of chest revealed by missing shirt buttons. More scratches had peeled away skin on the backs of his hands. A particularly deep gouge cut across his right cheek.

  But his wife’s nails hadn’t killed him; a blow to the head had. Above his left ear, a deep dent still seeped dark blood. The pale flash of jagged skull edging it almost glowed in the smoke-light.

  Benji crouched beside the dumpster, claws and teeth bared. He growled a warning—not that it would be heeded. An Ancient One could snuff out a lone Dromtsiir easily. He was powerless to stop it; all he could hope to do was distract this one long enough for Beirak to summon back up.

  He spared a thought for Kiki. He didn’t fear dying. But knowing he’d never see her again sparked a surprisingly sharp sadness.

  The Ancient One laughed through cracked lips. The sound hissed, echoing like a thousand drawn swords. Benji groaned and dropped to his knees. Blood trickled from his nose. He ignored it. He dared not look away from the corpse shambling ever closer to him.

  :Rise, eater of anguish.:

  The command cut through him. Benji grabbed the edge of the dumpster and heaved himself up, unable to fight it. The molested man’s corpse tilted its leering head. Benji expected some sort of explanation, some judgment against him, his kind, the deal; it didn’t matter what, really. The Ancient One gave him only one word.

  :Cease.:

  Benji stopped breathing. His heart managed two hard, desperate thumps before stilling. He crumpled, losing his hold on his human form. His head hit the ground, but it didn’t hurt.

  Electricity crackled along his body for a moment, then fizzled as a core of cold grew within. He couldn’t see through the unbroken whiteness around him. Panic seized him. He tried to cry out, but no sound escaped. He lashed out with claws, tail, and wings. He could barely feel the movement.

  He remembered the old tales told him by his mother’s mother. This icy seeping away was the Dromtsiirin’s death. Once the pain stopped and he couldn’t tell where his limbs were anymore, he’d be gone. He’d become thoughtless, emotionless energy. Food for his kin; good for nothing else.

  Benji struggled harder. His tail was gone. He couldn’t feel his feet. He dug his claws into his palms, desperate for sensation.

  A soft rasp echoed somewhere nearby. It sounded vaguely familiar. “To whom are you loyal?”

  An image flashed in his mind. A swamp stretched as far as could be seen, bordered distantly by jagged black mountains. Five bright orbs lit the night sky above. Benji’s heart trembled at the sight. He knew this place, he was sure of it. The image broke under the press of his thoughts as he reached for the memory. He thought of a face, but the yellow features wouldn’t coalesce. A name floated just beneath the surface of the fog in his head. His claws dug deeper in frustration.

  “Benjiishnael! To whom are you loyal?”

  He shivered. Azrulbey. With the name came the face, and the history. Benji could have sobbed with relief. I am ever loyal to Azrulbey, Master of the Long Mire Under the Five Moons.

  Warmth sparked where he thought his chest ought to be. He groaned.

  “To whom do you owe the air that you breathe?”

  I owe my life-breath to Azrulbey, Master of the Long Mire Under the Five Moons.

  “To whom do you surrender your soul for safekeeping?”

  My soul is held by Azrulbey, Master of the—

  The warmth in his chest arced outward. It sizzled around each scale, raced along every bone and sinew. A clawed hand gripped his face. He opened his eyes and saw yellow.

  Chaos roiled in the smoke-hazed alley nearby. The darkness flashed with lightning. Benji smelled burned flesh.

  He only had seconds to take this in before the agony of being pulled back into his body hit him. His scales were too tight, his wings too small; his tail was a stunted, stiff thing beating frantically against the dirty asphalt. He screamed wordlessly. The force of it arched his spine.

  Azrulbey released him. “Stay down. Regain your strength.” Then his master lurched into the fray.

  Benji’s heartbeat felt like gunshots, but he didn’t care. Pain had never been more welcome. He uncurled his fists carefully, hissing as his claws pulled out of his palms. He rolled his head to the side and watched the fight. Azrulbey, Beirak, and a dozen other Dromtsiirin ringed the Ancient One. Their scales glittered with blood.

  The molested man’s corpse still stood, but barely. Glowing, yellow-green smoke billowed from slashes all over its arms and torso. The Dromtsiirin lashed out again and again. Open mouths spewed fire, lightning, or pure light, depending on the strength of the attacker. Azrulbey’s light was almost blinding.

  The Ancient One’s angry wailing rose into a terrible, grating screech. All but Az and Beirak staggered, then fell to their hands and knees. Benji groaned at the fresh, slicing pain in his head. His eyes throbbed in their sockets.

  Only three of the fallen attackers managed to struggle back to their feet. The others writhed on the ground. The light around their scales guttered dangerously. Benji curled his lip and heaved onto his side. Nausea threatened to choke him. He slammed his palm against the ground. The sting of grease and dirt in his cuts cleared his head.

  The battered corpse stood a little taller. The remaining Dromtsiirin closed in, but they trembled. Benji pushed up to his hands and knees, then leaned a
gainst the dumpster until the world stopped swaying. He reached inward to the inferno of his soul. Channeling it outward, he opened his mouth and raged at the Ancient One. Flaming lightning lanced out and struck its chest.

  The Ancient One stumbled back a step. A sneer twisted its lips. One of the fallen Dromtsiirin blasted lightning from her place sprawled on the ground. After a moment, another joined in. The Ancient One wailed again, a hammering inside the skull, but it was weaker than before. Another of the fallen rose. And another.

  The Ancient One chittered madly, reverting to its insectile buzz. The corpse dropped to its knees, arms useless at its sides. Benji gave another push; more lightning this time, less fire. More anger. The buzzing disintegrated into thousands of clicks. The smoke rising from the molested man’s mangled flesh slowed.

  Most of the Dromtsiirin were on their knees now, shaking with the effort of their onslaught. Benji sank to his belly. He refocused his waning strength on the electricity spilling from his mouth. The Ancient One fell forward. It mewled petulantly. Benji pushed, shoved, for all he was worth.

  The corpse sagged face-first onto the ground. The glowing smoke went black, then puffed out. Benji didn’t cease his attack until Azrulbey did. When his master finally turned to him with a look of troubled victory on his yellow snout, Benji closed his eyes and gave in to the pull of unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Benji woke in a nest of dirt and rocks, surrounded by concrete walls. Relief flooded him at the sight; he was safe in the basement of Bey and Gold Financial, Azrulbey’s central business front in Las Vegas. He didn’t bother wondering how he and the other wounded Dromtsiirin had been taken from the alley without drawing attention. His master had connections everywhere; for all Benji knew, they’d been bundled into delivery trucks like so many baked goods.

  He stretched carefully. His back and ribs felt as if they’d been pummeled. He could barely move his wings. A headache throbbed behind his eyes. He rested for a moment longer, then shoved himself up with a groan. The concrete floor just past the edge of the dirt pile was cool. He wanted to sprawl out on his belly and let it seep into him.

  But he couldn’t waste any more time. He’d been useless long enough. It took only seconds to curl into his human form. Naked and lacking light in his veins, he immediately started shivering. His pain was worse in this form; all his aches were crammed together, compacted. He hunched, hands on his knees, until he could move without growling.

  The elevator seemed terribly far away. When he finally reached it, he sank down onto the warm, carpeted floor and pushed the button for the office level. When the doors opened again, he staggered into a short hallway. Voices drifted to him from an open door at the far end. A curious head poked out and spotted him.

  “It’s Benjiishnael,” Kurleon said over his shoulder. He listened a moment, nodded, then stalked out into the hall with a bundle of clothing under one arm. “Come, brother. We’ve got food waiting for you.”

  Benji stopped only long enough to pull into the clothing and boots. “I have to check on Kiki.”

  “You can barely stand, ‘Jiishnael. You need to feed.”

  “I’ll catch something on the way.”

  Benji ignored Kurleon’s raised eyebrows and turned back to the elevator. His only real thought now was to get to Kiki. The Ancient One hadn’t been after her, but that didn’t mean someone else hadn’t stepped in while he’d been distracted. If she’d been harmed—or worse—he’d burn down everything around him seeking the one who did it.

  He frowned as the elevator descended to the ground floor. You’re becoming attached to her, ‘Jiishnael. To a human.

  It surprised him to realize the thought didn’t disgust him. It should have. He squared his shoulders and stepped into the lobby. The lingering heat of evening closed around him as soon as he exited the building. The desert lay long and lonely to the left, beneath a veil of stars. To the right, a twisting snake of traffic lights marked the highway that would take him back to Appaloosa, and Kiki.

  Benji didn’t hesitate. The thrum of the engine soothed his frayed nerves. Twenty minutes later, he stood in the deep shadows beside the brush-edged fence surrounding her apartment complex. He watched her folding clothes in the brightly lit laundry room.

  She looked tired. Her movements were jerky. Between that and the furrow between her brows, he knew she was in a bad mood. He’d seldom seen her unhappy; the very rarity made it memorable.

  She appeared unharmed, physically. For that he thanked the Thousand-Eyed Huntress.

  Kiki whisked her laundry basket off the folding table. Snapping the lights off, she strode out the door. She padded up the stairs and disappeared into her apartment. Benji let out a breath and hurried across the street to his own place.

  The door opened before he could reach for the handle. His heart raced. The skin on his hands slid back to free his claws.

  “Easy, ‘Jiishnael. Didn’t think Az would leave her unguarded while you had your little beauty sleep, did you?”

  Benji curled his lip but re-skinned his fingers. He pushed past Beirak and strode to the windows. Kiki’s curtains were open, as usual. She plopped on the couch with a tumbler and a chunky bottle of dark amber liquid. She filled the glass, tossed back a big swallow, and re-filled it. She settled back against the cushions Indian-style with her eyes closed, arms crossed, the tumbler held loosely in one hand.

  Benji was taken aback. He’d never seen her drink alcohol before.

  “She’s been in a foul mood since she returned from the market,” Beirak remarked beside him. “Cleaning, mostly. No one’s bothered her.”

  “No thralls, either?” Benji shuddered to remember the young woman from earlier.

  “I said no one,” Beirak snapped. His frown turned into a sneer. “You’ve got it bad, haven’t you?”

  “What?”

  “You’re falling for her. I thought your dancing last night was her idea. Perhaps I was wrong? Are you trying to claim her?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Benji growled. “She’s human.”

  “There are some who say that doesn’t matter.”

  “And there are some who lay with the Legless where the murk will hide their atrocities.”

  He winced internally. That was harsh. Kiki was far better than a squirming, panting mire-wyrm in heat. But Beirak was too observant for his own good. Benji couldn’t meet his eyes, so he didn’t try. He watched Kiki grab a book from the coffee table. He recognized the cover and hoped his blush would go unnoticed.

  It didn’t.

  “You know, if you want to go over there and comfort her, I won’t tell.”

  Benji glared at him. “What did we find out about the Ancient One?”

  Beirak waddle-stalked over to the sofa and sat heavily. “You were right. This deal is attracting all kinds of attention. Az has been dealing with other masters for weeks, it turns out. They want a share of the feeding. They’re actually banding together to pressure him. Good feeding grounds are harder and harder to come by, and we were shut out of four more realms in as many moons. If this keeps up, we’ll all starve.”

  “So they want to feed their people. What’s so bad about that? If this deal goes through, there will be enough for almost everyone. And if other masters are finally working together instead of trying to kill each other, all the better. Az should jump at the opportunity to forge new alliances.”

  Beirak grunted. “You know Az; he still clings to old laws and old hatreds. He remembers the time before the Justicars took over, when everyone was starving and murdering and no one could trust anyone. He’ll be one of the last masters to renounce their rule, even if he loses half his people to starvation.”

  Benji rolled his eyes. “So we can count on more trouble.”

  Beirak heaved himself up and wrestled his phone from his pocket. He pulled something up on the screen and held it out to Benji. “More trouble is already here. The attack in the alley wasn’t the only strike by the Ancient One.”


  Benji squinted at a news article on the screen. Casino charged with dirty money, the headline read, and just beneath the bold type: Whistle-blower claims mob connection.

  He cursed. The Ancient One had worked its own deals to bring down the Mystic and its owner in the human business arena.

  “None of it’s true,” Beirak said. “But the forged documents are nearly flawless. It’ll take months to unravel them and repair the damage to the Mystic’s reputation.”

  Benji curled his lip and handed the phone back. Ming Song would have heard the news by now. She was desperate for a partner for her black dealings, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d be crazy not to run from Lars Barron and his front-page disaster.

  “Any word from Song?”

  Beirak nodded. “She’s freaking out. Took me almost three hours to convince her not to pull out immediately. I told her it was all lies, that this is what happens when casinos start seeing real success. The competition gets dirty. She’ll still meet with Barron on Wednesday, but I don’t know how it’ll go.”

  “Is she still going to meet up with Kiki beforehand?”

  “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

  Benji jolted. “I don’t work tomorrow. I can’t be there to make sure they’re not interrupted.”

  “Figure it out.” Beirak headed for the door. “I’ll tell Az you’re back on duty.”

  Benji muttered under his breath. He locked the door after the older Dromtsiir and resumed his place at the window. Across the street, Kiki snapped her book shut with a look of disgust. Her shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. She chewed her lip, her eyes distant. Then she slugged back the rest of her drink, rose, and left the living room. The light switched off. She was turning in for the night.

  Benji headed for the pub. The patrons nodded to him in greeting. He immediately set about stirring up anxiety; he desperately needed to recharge after the fight with the Ancient One.

  He’d stay longer than usual tonight. He needed to be ready for tomorrow, and not just to be on the alert for threats to Kiki and Song’s get-together. He had a feeling his usually perky boss wouldn’t be happy to see him after he’d abruptly left her at the coffee shop.