Blood and Treasure: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Half-Demon Warlock Book 3)

by J. A. Cipriano

  “Shake it off?” I balked, glaring at him. “This isn’t some shampoo commercial, Gary. You’re not going to make me feel better by telling me to lather, rinse and repeat. If I’m tense, it’s because I’ve got damn good reason to be.”

  “Bullshit,” he scoffed.

  “It’s not bullshit, Gary. Not bullshit. Anybody in their right mind would be tense right now, given all the crap going on.”

  He hopped back down to the ground, showing a bit of grace and ease that I couldn’t remember seeing in him before my seven year absence. Maybe the Astra coven had been better for him than they had for me.

  “Anybody in their right mind would have been dead a long time ago, you asshat,” he said, folding his arms over his chest and picking something out of his fanged teeth with his forked tongue. “It’s the ‘not being tense’ that keeps us alive. Sure, normal people have things like focus, clarity, perspective, bank accounts that don’t have a negative balance, and health insurance that isn’t just the words ‘Give me drugs’ scribbled on the back of an old Blockbuster card, but do you know what they don’t have?”

  “Imps who give too much detail when they’re trying to make a point?” I asked, looking down at him.

  “You love my obtuse sense of humor. Don’t try to pretend you don’t.” He pointed a long finger at me. “What they don’t have, Roy boy, is a way to compartmentalize all the impulses in their head telling them it’s probably not a great idea to throw yourself into the center of a burning building to save a mystical South African fertility charm, or to try and pass laundry detergent off as Jupiter dust to the second largest pack of devil worshippers in the Northern hemisphere.”

  “If you didn’t want me to do it, then you shouldn’t have made the bet,” I said, folding my own arms over my chest and scowling at him.

  “The point is, Roy boy, the voices that tell you not to do those things are the same ones that get you killed once you try. So, seeing as how, according to you, there’s no way out of this whole ‘nightmare monster/gateway to hell’ scenario, it seems to me you might want to find a way to relax.”

  I looked at my best friend in the world for a few long seconds. As stupid as what he was saying was, it actually made sense if you didn’t think about it too hard. Maybe the reason I hadn’t gotten my ass killed yet was because, like Gary said, I hadn’t taken the time to really let any of it get to me. I’d been blasted out of windows, beaten to a pulp, and shot at so many times, I was pretty sure Jason Statham wouldn’t have made it through. I’d saved the day, saved myself, and more importantly, saved the people I cared about.

  If I was going to continue to do that, maybe I needed to let loose. Maybe I needed to get back to who I was before all of this happened to me, before the world changed while I wasn’t looking.

  But how was I supposed to do that?

  “How?” I asked, blinking at him as a wry smile spread across his green face.

  “There was this guy we met while you were gone. Two of his wives disappeared under mysterious circumstances. One of them turned up in the river a couple years ago and one was never seen again. He’s a Senator’s son though, so nothing ever happened to him. Just got to keep dicking around as free as a bird because his daddy’s a big shot.” Gary's tone was bitter and accusatory.

  “Okay,” I answered. “I’m not quite sure what that’s got to do with me.”

  He leaned forward so far, I thought he might fall over, top heavy bastard that he was.

  “Well,” he started, basically bouncing on his heels. “I was just thinking that maybe, you know, since the son of a bitch didn’t get what was coming to him in the first place, you might want to give him what he deserves. And, if doing so also happens to scratch your demon itch and get you to calm the hell down in the meantime, I guess that kills two birds with one stone.”

  “Two birds with one stone, Gary?” I scoffed, shaking my head at him. “How about five million birds with that one stones? That's more like what we're up against.”

  “Yeah, I guess it's not a perfect saying for the situation,” he muttered, eyes widening as realization struck him.

  I would have chuckled if I wasn’t so taken aback by his suggestion.

  “I’m not hungry, Gary,” I replied, narrowing my eyes at him. I mean, that wasn’t exactly true. I sort of was hungry. I hadn’t ‘eaten’ in seven years, and whether I wanted to admit it or not, the demon part of me was getting a little antsy. Still, if Gary thought it had anything to do with my wound up nature, he had another thing coming. “Even if I was hungry,” I continued. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with my demeanor.”

  “You sure?” he asked, still picking his teeth with his tongue. “Because, in my experience, there’s not a mood in the world a basket of chicken fingers can’t improve. I’d have to imagine the same thing goes for demons.”

  This time, I did chuckle. The whole thing was so ridiculous, I had no choice but to find it funny. The idea that ‘eating’ some murderous, pampered bastard would help me focus and allow me to protect Renee and the world more effectively was such a quintessentially ‘Gary idea,' I had no choice but to consider it.

  After all, he was my best friend. It might sound insane to me, but there were more than a few times when I’d had to think the little green bugger knew me better than I knew myself. Still, when it came down to it, I couldn’t split my focus just to enact some sort of karmic revenge. I needed to keep my attention on keeping them safe, especially since they’d grown so complacent, what with Renee being the new Hercules and everything.

  “You kill him then,” I said, shaking my head at Gary.

  “Would that I could, Roy boy,” he answered. “But I took an oath when I went to work with the Astra coven not to kill any humans, regardless of how much they might deserve it.” He poked my shin with his sharp elbow. “But you didn’t.”

  “I can’t, Gary,” I answered. “You might be right. He might deserve it, and I’m even willing to admit that giving the dude his just desserts could possibly even go a little ways toward taking my edge off, but I don’t have time. I have to keep my eyes peeled for this nightmare thing. The dude will wait.”

  “Will he?” Gary asked, smirking at me. “Let me just add one little tidbit before you make your final decision. I read a newspaper article this morning. The guy who almost certainly killed both his former wives has started dating someone again.”

  Damn it. The smug little imp knew he had me. As much as I might want to focus on the task in front of me, he knew I couldn’t turn away from a woman in trouble, even if the woman in question was stupid enough to put herself in the situation by shacking up with a known serial killer.

  Gary knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I learned this dude had killed again, not when I had the chance to stop it.

  “I assume you know where to find this epic douchebag,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “You know,” he said gleefully. “I just might.”

  “Fine then,” I said, letting my eyes go red. “Saddle up, Gary. We’re going hunting.”

  20

  Colin Randall Hearst sat three tables down from me at one of the swankiest French places Atlanta had to offer. Gary told me it had opened a few years after I’d disappeared, not that I’d have known it was here anyway. I had always been more of a ribs and bacon type of guy. The idea of a five course meal never suited me much, especially when one of those courses were snails and the other four were practically unpronounceable.

  Still, this was where my mark was. So I scarfed down the escargot like it wasn’t completely disgusting.

  “You think he sees us?” Gary asked, crouching on the table in front of me and peering at the senator’s son. Colin had a glass of champagne in his left hand, a dainty salad fork in his right, and a shit eating grin on his face that made me want to punch him until his teeth became nothing more than a distant memory. Even if this douchebag hadn’t been a murderer I’d have hated him.

  “He
definitely doesn’t see you,” I responded, alluding to the special ability imps had, which made them invisible to all but those who believed in their existence. “Unless they started teaching ‘Imp History’ in whatever fancy boarding school this bastard went to.”

  “Eh, probably not,” Gary mused. “As a people, we’re criminally underrepresented.”

  “And if he saw me, I doubt he’d give it more than a passing thought,” I said, keeping my eyes peeled and watching as he took the hand of the woman Gary had told me was named Sarah Samson. She was a pretty successful surgeon, did her residency at John Hopkins. So, why all those smarts didn’t translate into better decision making skills was beyond me. If someone can get through medical school with flying colors and look as good as she currently did in a black dress, I figured she ought to be able to do better than a pretty boy, serial killer, even if he did happen to be rich and the son of a senator.

  “I don’t know, Roy boy. You’ve still got those baby face features that made all the girls swoon back in the day,” Gary answered. “Maybe the lunatic’s not looking at you, but his date certainly is.”

  I scoffed, shaking my head. “That’s because for me ‘back in the day’ was only a couple of weeks ago. And I’m not interested in catching any girls’ eyes at the moment.” Looking past Gary though, I saw that he was right. Sarah was looking right at me, a coy smile on her lips and a hunger in her eyes that reminded me of a few days in Acapulco during Spring Break of 2012 that I admittedly barely remembered. “Though, maybe I could use it to my advantage just this once.”

  I leaned forward, pushing the mostly uneaten plate of buttered snail carcasses away from me. “Gary, I need you to do something for me.”

  “Anything,” he answered. “Unless it’s explain what’s happened on Game of Thrones since you’ve been gone. Some things just have to be experienced firsthand.”

  “Not that. Though it does sound tempting,” I answered as I suddenly realized I had seven years’ worth of TV and movies to catch up on. “I want you to walk over there and knock Colin’s champagne glass over. Really get the fucker drenched.”

  “Is that all?” he asked, smiling back at me. “I thought you’d never ask.” He started toward the far table.

  “And, Gary,” I said as he went. “After you do that, punch him in the nuts or something.”

  The imp turned back to me, a tear in his eye. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  Stifling a grin, I watched him walk over, hop unseen on the table, tip the champagne glass and its contents right into Colin’s lap, and then haul back and give him a flying elbow to the nut sack.

  The guy pulled back at first, as the champagne seemed to magically come cascading down onto him. Then, when he got twenty six and a half pounds of feisty imp right in the baby maker, he let out a howl and grabbed himself.

  “Ex-excuse me,” he muttered, and just as I predicted, hobbled toward the bathroom.

  I stood, dabbing the buttery disgustingness off my cheeks with a napkin, and headed toward the table myself.

  “Hold him until I get there,” I told Gary flatly. He nodded and hopped off the table, ambling toward the bathroom, very proud of himself.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite understand you,” Sarah said, staring up at me with a hint of a smile on her face. She couldn’t see Gary either, which meant she probably thought I was talking to her.

  “I said I hope your date’s all right,” I lied, grabbing the back of Colin’s vacated chair and pushing it forward into the table. He wasn’t going to need it anymore.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” she answered, her eyes raking over me in a way that let me know she didn't really give a damn whether he was okay or not. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Sa-”

  “Actually that was a lie,” I cut her off, my hands tightening against the back of the chair. “I don’t hope he’s okay. I hope the exact opposite is true. I hope he’s severed something in his groin area that will result in the immediate and irreversible removal of every organ that makes him distinctly a man. Maybe then, women like you- a smart, capable, beautiful woman who has so much to offer to the world- will stop getting yourselves killed for a flashy smile and the promise of a hefty trust fund.”

  Sarah’s face fell flat before hardening into granite. Her hands balled into fists around her plate and her jaw tightened. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are.”

  “Who the hell I think I am doesn’t matter right now, Dr. Samson,” I said, using her name, a name she hadn’t given me, to let her know I meant business, and I knew what I was talking about. “Not nearly as important as who that dickhead in the bathroom is. He murdered two women.”

  “He was never found guilty of that,” she answered, as though it made a difference.

  “Not by the courts,” I answered with a shrug. “But we both know why that is. You can get away with anything so long as your daddy holds the city by its shorthairs. But what do you think that means for you, Dr. Samson? Do you really think he’s innocent? Because I think you’re too smart for that. I think you know the odds of both his wives going missing in the same fashion and him having nothing to do with it are about as good as the odds that the sun will start spinning around the earth for a change of pace or of Jon Snow inheriting Winterfell.”

  “Actually-”

  “Don’t tell me. I’m still behind,” I grumbled. “The point is, you know better than to think he didn’t do this, which leads me to believe that you think something completely different. You think you’re smarter than those other women. You think you’ll be the one who tames him. You’re so special. You’re so brilliant, that you’ll work around the monster that lurks inside of him.” I tightened my grip on the back of the chair until my fingers started to go white from lack of blood. “Let me tell you something, Dr. Samson, something I know from experience. That’s not how it works. When a man has a monster inside of him, there’s no amount of coaxing that can undo it. Sure, you might be able to hit all his sweet spots. You might even be able to put the monster to sleep for a while. Hell, he might even think you’ve cured him. Sooner or later though, the monster always rears its ugly head. It’ll come back with a vengeance, and it’ll want to take its frustrations out on the person it blames for holding it hostage all this time.”

  Sarah Samson’s face had gone a particularly chilling shade of white as I continued. “So do yourself, and the people you could help with your work a favor, Dr. Samson. Walk out of this place right now and start treating yourself with some dignity. You’re better than this. You deserve more.”

  She looked up at me, blinking back tears as she stood. “God, you’re right. You’re right about all of it. I’ve been so stupid. I’m been so damn brazen. What am I going to do? What if he tries to call me? What if he comes after me?”

  “That won’t be an issue,” I said with a nod, and then walked toward the bathroom. I heard her footsteps, fast and panicked as she rushed out the door.

  I’ll be honest, I was feeling pretty good about myself as I pushed the door open. Only, as I saw Colin laying across the floor, cut to pieces and gasping for air, my jaw damned near hit the floor.

  Gary stood on the man’s chest, digging nails through his shirt and into his skin.

  Of course, Colin couldn’t see that. For all he knew, he was being beaten to a pulp by thin air.

  “Gary,” I said, shock evident in my voice as I woodenly closed the door behind me and engaged the lock. “What the fuck?”

  “What?” he shrugged. “You said to keep him here. He’s here.” An almost creepy smile draped across his face. “Now let’s get to work.”

  21

  I blinked. Once again, all the changes that had occurred in the seven years since I’d been gone rose up to smack me in the face. Something about the look Gary was giving me, about the hint of darkness in his spider eyes, made me realize he wasn’t the same imp I’d left behind. Not by a longshot.

  The Gary I knew from back then wouldn’t have been this hard. H
e wouldn’t have taken this sort of joy in watching me dole out punishment to some schlub on the floor, even if the guy deserved it.

  What had happened to him? What brought about this change? Was it just me not being here?

  “What are you waiting for, Roy boy?” he asked, eyeing Colin and baring sharp teeth the guy would never see. “Let’s get at it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Colin gasped as he raised a bloody hand to touch the weight on his chest. “Who’s Gary?” The man swallowed hard. “You know what, I don’t care. Do you work here? Can you just get someone to help me? I think I’m having a heart attack.”

  “I don’t work here. I can get someone to help you, but I won’t, and you’re not having a heart attack,” I said, letting my eyes flash red. The demon inside of me nearly leapt for joy, sensing I was about to release it. Hunger built up anew inside of me. Something about being so close to this sort of release had always made the yearning to do it that much more defined. Now that I was about to feed, I couldn’t wait. The idea of sinking my metaphysical teeth into him and letting all the energy he had wasted over the years on criminally selfish choices drain into me, lit my entire being up.

  I could barely contain myself as I walked toward him.

  As always seemed to be the case with murderous SOBs, Colin panicked like a baby with his first wet diaper once he saw his own life was in danger. Watching my eyes go red must have been a hell of an experience for him, because he instantly tried to hop up off the floor.

  Gary wouldn’t allow it though. He gave the man a hard punch to the throat, which sent him reeling back to the floor, clutching at his windpipe.

  “Something is- something is-” Colin gasped for breath, trying to form the words as his panic level rose even further.

  “I know, Colin. Something is wrong,” I said as I came to a stop at his feet.

  The man didn’t seem shocked to realize I knew his name, which probably shouldn’t have been surprising. If Gary was right, the guy was kind of infamous, and besides, it wasn’t like there was any lack of strange occurrences for him to process at the moment.