They might have beer.
Craig and Vivian moved around Kat and Josh. Colt’s gaze went to the slayers and froze on his aunt Vivian and her nearly painted-on catsuit. He stepped into her path and reached for a hug. “Aunt Vivian!”
Craig strong-armed him aside. “Back off, kid. I don’t know you.”
Hmmm. Craig has appointed himself Vivian’s protector. Interesting.
“That’s Colt,” Vivian explained. “An older version of the one you met.”
Craig stared at Colt who’d stumbled back and fallen butt-first into a recliner. “Really?”
“All of him are temporal ghosts,” I said. “You’ll get used to it.”
Vivian smelled the air. “Citrus aftershave. That’s my favorite.”
Colt grinned. “I know.”
I’m sure Vivian’s heightened sense of smell told her what we knew—all of us but Craig who was merely human—Colt’s inner dragon had hit puberty along with his human side. The kid’s hormones were raging and he had eyes for Vivian, and little else. Of course, who could blame him. She’d give a stiffy to a thousand-year-old gay mummy.
Well, not my problem. I’m sure she’ll let him down easy.
She looked to me. “Craig and I’ll take the first half of the night watch.”
I nodded. “Sure. Gloria and Kain have crashed out with the same idea in mind.”
Vivian said, “We’ll take a bedroom and get some extra sleep, too. Call me if there’s trouble before nightfall.”
“Right. Oh, Colt brought in the luggage, I’m not sure which room you’ll find it in.”
“Down the hall, last room on the right,” he said.
She gave him a quick smile. “Thanks.”
I gave my attention back to the Pride members. They were already receding, Kat and Joshua at the rear. I followed them out and over to their place. We went in and scattered. A few of the werecat toms headed toward the back of the house, going into the bedrooms. Some of the tabbies went through the dining room, into the kitchen. I joined Kat and Joshua in the living room, setting the sheathed sword of Light on the coffee table in front of me as I settled on the couch.
“Anyone got coffee?” I asked.
A bald-headed biker dude I didn’t know left and returned with a cup. He wore leather pants, a blue shirt, and a leather vest with a yawning gator on the back. His slit pupil eyes were yellowish green. And he was big, six-four, built like a brick wall. He smelled like a shifter, but not cat. In fact, I had one eye that was Villager, black-and-red and one—my dragon eye: yellow-green with a vertical pupil—that looked like both of his.
“Thanks.” I looked up and let him see for himself.
He froze a moment. Then said, “You’re like the kid, right; a dragon?”
“Half-dragon,” I said. “Half-Villager.” I wondered if that last reference would mean anything to him. Villagers had left the Earth centuries ago for their own hell-dimension. Those that knew of them thought they were merely boogie-men, legends. Most vampires knew better, but shifters were less rooted in the past.
“Villager?”
Yeah, he doesn’t know.
“Shadow mage,” I said.
He jolted backwards. Apparently, he’d had trouble before with magic-users.
Haven’t we all.
“Relax,” I said. “I only kill people that piss me off or get in my way.”
Josh said, “Relax, Ringo. Caine here is the High King of the fey. He can’t lie. If he says he’s not going to kill you, believe him.”
“Colt told you about my recent subjugation of Fairy?” I asked.
“In great, bloody detail,” Kat said. “But don’t expect any of us to bow and scrape. We’re Americans. We don’t do that.”
“I’ll bow and scrape if you want,” Ringo said. “The Gator Clan has a trace amount of dragon blood in our linage. We have myths of a coming golden age brought on by the return of dragons to our world. You could wade into the bayous, most any cypress swamp, and in a few hours, have a whole army at your back.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Nice to know.
Kat slapped the coffee table with a palm, doing her best to look fierce.
Girls are so cute when they try that.
“Tell me again about why Colt stole Zahra?”
“She was mine first,” I said, “in case you forgot. Colt and I brought her to this time from the Wild West.”
Ringo grunted in surprise, leaning against the arch to the dining room.
I picked up my coffee, took a sip, and cradled the cup in both hands.
“You were just the means used by Bastet to get Zahra to us. Our Pride is now her home.”
“I’m fine with that,” I said, “but there will be times I’ll need to use her gift. And since it was Colt abducting her, I bet you anything she went with a smile.”
One of the tabbies in the kitchen sang out, “Hoo-boy, she did. When the kid lunged in and wrapped his arms around her, she looked like she’d used up her ninth-life and gone straight to kitty heaven. That boy is definitely her catnip.”
Kat threw an irritated look toward the kitchen, as if to say: Whose side are you on?
“Look,” I said, “Selene says this is necessary. I don’t know why. On some things, I take her on faith.”
“We’re concerned because Selene has a lot of madness to her methods,” Josh said.
Can’t argue with that, but it’s not getting us anywhere.
“Can we move along to other business?” I asked.
“Fine,” Kat said it without enthusiasm.
There’s something I’m missing. Ah, yes!
It came to me; when I’d first met Kat, she was pregnant. She’d lost the child and the chance to be a mother. I’d given her that chance back with Zahra—and then taken her kid without asking.
Rude of me. Oh, well. People should expect it by now.
And yet, I had a kid. I understood.
I sighed, met her angry gaze, and made a promise. “Next time I’ll ask first.”
“And if I say no?” Kat asked.
“I’m a demon lord. I will always do what I need to, but I’ll give you the option of coming along—if possible.”
She looked less grumpy. “Is that the promise of the Fey High King?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
Mission bells pealed high in the sky. Everyone looked up at the ceiling except me.
I sighed again. “Definitely annoying.”
“Alright, here’s how I figure things will go. “First, on the last two attacks, Anubis called ahead first to taunt me. He might do so again. Or might not. We should keep a strict watch. Is anyone watching the approaches now?”
A new tabby voice called from the kitchen. “I’ve got a view of the lake and the marina’s Office.”
A tom near the porch door said, “I’ll take a position on the deck and watch toward the lake.”
“Anyone awake in the bedrooms watching the opposite way?” I asked.
Kat yelled, “Morrie!”
Morrie came in from the dining room and ran past us to the hallway. “On it,”
“That leaves one side.” Joshua yelled, “Rick, take position at the end of the hallway, by the window. Everyone else, rest until you’re needed to relieve the watch.”
“Good as far as it goes,” I said. “You guys got sloppy fast. I can tell you’re not used to a war footing.”
“My fault,” Josh said. “I’m the one with experience.”
“No, my fault,” Kat said. “I need to let you follow your training and not get us all distracted.”
Josh smiled warmly at her. “Easier said than done.”
I finished my coffee and set down the cup. “The important thing is to think like the enemy. Ringo, if you were going to wipe us out, how would you do it?”
“A two-prong attack: one magic, one physical. I’d start with a sleep spell, or paralysis venom in a fog attack. I’d use something that didn’t hurt my own forces, sending them
in under cover of dark. I’d hide them on the lake’s north shore and bring them in later along the north-east shore.”
“You wouldn’t cross the lake itself?”
Ringo shook his head no. “Not when there’s chatter that suggests a kraken’s in the water. Not even the Gator Clan—in its own element—would tempt fate that way.”
“If Zahra were here,” Kat said, “she could tell us for sure.”
“She might still miss something,” I said. “Seers aren’t perfect. If I were Anubis, I’d do everything Ringo suggested. And then spring a few surprises using divine power as well. That’s harder to ward against than magic. I could set up a shadow barrier but Anubis might still get through. It’s why I hope Selene joins us soon.”
“And she is?” Ringo asked.
Kat said, “Colt’s mother. A red dragon that battled the Wild Hunt in ancient Fairy and ascended to goddesshood.”
“Mistress of the Red Moon and my wife,” I added.
Ringo went back to staring, white as a gator’s belly. “A dragon goddess?”
“Gotta fight divinity with divinity, I said. “And monsters with monsters.”
I took out my phone. “Nobody say anything while I make this call. I want it to be anonymous. Oh, and none of you are seeing me do this, okay?”
“Seeing what?” Ringo’s voice was bland. “I’m washing my hair.” He rubbed fingertips on his bald scalp.
I punched in a number that was new to my mental contacts list. After several rings, the connection went through. “Carpathia Club. I’m sorry, but we’re not open yet.”
Good. I’d counted on a real minion answering, not a machine. As a front, the club needed to be accessible during the day to its human informants.
I smiled. “Of course not. Your vampire bosses are in their coffins right now, dreaming of blood. Well, blood is coming, lots of it. A gathering of shifter clans is happening in Shreveport. Once the tribes unify, they’ll take out the vamps in Bossier. Then they’ll sweep your way!”
“Who is this?”
I lied with the truth, knowing my words would be misinterpreted. “Lord Caine. I’ve come to Cross Lake to do a little killing.” I gave a sinister laugh and cut the connection.
“I thought you wanted to be anonymous,” Josh said.
“If you were a vampire from around these parts, and head me identify myself as Lord Caine, would you assume it’s the demon clan lord from L.A.?”
Ringo straightened off of the dining room arch, smiling. “not if I’m a paranoid vampire from New Orleans who’s been plotting for centuries to one day overthrow the vampire Lord Kain. In fact, if I thought Lord Kain were warning me of a shifter invasion, I’d suspect he might be behind it. A vampire lord will always suspect another vampire lord of doing the same thing he would.”
I nodded. “So, what are the human blood donors at the Carpathian club doing right now?”
Kat grinned. “They’ll be calling the human minions of the vampires in Bossier city, across the Red River, asking them what they know.”
“Which is nothing,” Josh said. “They’ll promise to find something out and get back to them.”
“And will the New Orleans minions believe that?” I asked. “Anybody?”
One of the tabbies came from the kitchen. She refilled my cup and looked at me. “Hell no.”
“Why not?” I asked.
Ringo shrugged. “They’ll assume the local vamps have to have heard something. To not admit that much means a conspiracy because that’s what vampires do. Everything is political.”
“So, what’s the next thing the human minions in New Orleans will do?” I asked.
Nobody responded.
I said, “See, this is why you need a demon lord around to plot your campaigns.”
“What will they do?” Kat asked.
“They’ll dither a few hours, they’ll send spies to look around the lake because I mentioned it, and they’ll wake the Master Vampire of New Orleans early because he’s the only vamp they have who’s strong enough to wake in daylight and be halfway functional. Now, once they tell him Lord Kain is at Cross Lake and pulling strings behind a shifter war that’s taking over the state, what happens?”
Ringo said, “If I were a suspicious Master Vampire—about to lose my territory—I’d gather all my forces. I’d have coffins loaded in rental trucks and convoys of heavily armed human minions; all rolling this way for an all-out sunset attack, locking up everything behind me with a much smaller defensive force.”
I gazed with lofty approval at Ringo. “You certainly know your vampires.”
“Takes a cold-blooded predator to know a cold-blooded predator,” he said.
Jamie, Kat’s third in command, protested. “Wait a minute, you just arranged for us all to be attacked by a vampire army!”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m counting on Anubis to save us. Now I need to make another call. Anyone got the number for the local werebears?”
“God help us,” Kat muttered.
FIFTEEN
“You think it’s easy being me? Try
stomping across hell in my boots.”
—Caine Deathwalker
Ringo jumped in my Mustang and gave me directions to Big Willie’s Dinner, one of the local business owned by the bear shifters. The signs outside boasted the best steaks and seafood anywhere. I’d soon know if they lied. I walked in and counted at least a half-dozen deer heads, all staring at me with blind, marble eyes. No bucks, just does. Someone really had a mad on for Bambi’s mother. I wondered if she were in this lot.
I moved past red-and-white checkered tablecloths on square tables with wooden chairs. There were hot sauce, salt-and-pepper shakers, and sugar dispensers on the tables. One wall had a bar, and behind that, a vast supply of cheap wines. Menus were stacked on the bar.
One of elderly waitresses hollered. “Go ahead and grab a menu.”
I did, figuring I might need to fling it like a Frisby later to get a waitress’ attention. They didn’t look anxious to serve.
Another waitress said, “Sit anywhere.”
Ringo got a wave from a thirty-something gal, the youngest of the three. She wore glasses, was short and stocky, and part of their huddle. I wondered if some kitchen disaster had struck. Maybe they were out of ketchup for the salmon loaf, or maple-cinnamon-butter for their bread rolls. Passing a table, I saw it in small plastic tubs, smelled it, too with my heightened senses.
“You a regular here?” I asked Ringo.
“Yeah, came for the challenge the first time. Came back for the blackberry pie. Trust werebear to know their berries.” He pulled out a chair and sat, opening the menu.
“The challenge of getting service?” I asked.
“Nah, this here.” He showed me an item on the menu: a 64oz. steak served with fries, a veggie, and rolls. The print said: eat it all in one hour, and it’s free—or $65.00.
“A four-pound steak? I’ve eaten whole cows, hooves and all.”
“In human form?” he asked.
“Well, no.”
“I’ve seen several shifters do it. The place lost money, so the Boss Bear passed a rule, contest stopped being open to shifters.”
The younger waitress came up without me having to fling the menu. She smiled. “What can I get you boys to drink?”
“Root beer,” Ringo said.
“Bordeaux blend,” I said. “Bring the whole bottle.”
“Coming right up.” She hurried off, giving us more time to study the food selections.
“What kind of blend was that?” Ringo asked.
“The winery mixes a Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot together to make a Bordeaux blend. It’s a sweet, fruity red that goes well with beef.”
A big man walked up to the table and slapped Ringo on the back of his leather vest. “Ringo, where’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in here in ages.”
The man was shorter than Ringo’s six-four, merely six-two, but his body mass was double-wide, with a florid face, h
eavy rolls of fat, and a voice that boomed. He wore khaki cargo pants and an emerald golf shirt size 4x. There was a bald spot on top of his head, and ample fuzz on his forearms. His face was clean-shaven, but he sported heavy stubble. His eyes, I noticed, were small and mean, contradicting his heartiness.
“Big Tom, sit. Join us,” Ringo said.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
This was the guy I’d come to see. He owned the restaurant, a few bars, and half a dozen businesses in Shreveport. A hard man to get hold of, he headed up the Bear Clan, and his people kept everybody else in line. Except the vampires across the river in Bossier. There, it was: you stay on your side, we’ll stay on ours.
Big Tom pulled out a chair and sat, giving me a once-over stare. He looked to Ringo while jerking a thumb at me. “Who’s your tiny friend, here?”
“Helluva lot bigger than you when he shifts,” Ringo said. “He’d make one bite out of, matter-of-fact?”
Big tom snorted. “Yeah, and if I believe that, you got jack-a-lope steak to sell me, too.”
“Fresh out,” Ringo said. “Let me introduce you…”
“Go on,” Big Tom said. “I ain’t stoppin’ ya.”
Ringo looked at me. “Caine, this is Big Tom, as you heard. He’s the King Bear around these parts, law-giver to all the shifter rogues living here and passin’ through.”
Big Tom nodded agreement. “That’s a fact.”
Ringo looked at him. “Tom, this is Caine Deathwalker, the Red Moon Demon, Lord of L.A., and godson of Achill, the Fenris over the wolf clans.”
Big Tom paled. His breathing grew labored. And his little, mean eyes were open wide in shock.
I caught Ringo’s eyes. “You left out Lord High Executioner of the Dragon World.”
He shrugged. “There’s a lot to keep track of.”
I nodded. “Tell me about it. And people wonder why I don’t hand out business cards.” Actually, I did have cards; I just didn’t put much on them. You either knew who Cain Deathwalker was, and how to reach me, or you weren’t anyone important.
Big Tom blinked and breathed deep; I guessed he wasn’t going to have a coronary after all. He poked a thick finger in the air. “You have gotta be shittin’ me!”
Crimson Sword Stalker (Demon Lord Book 10) Page 13
