07- Black Blood Brother

by Morgan Blayde

  Sorry. Apparently, you’re on a diet. I released the sword. It popped out of this location, returning through the ether to my armory in California. I held on to the gun, not quite sure I was safe. I went to my old stool, picked it off the floor, and sat down next to her.

  Her glance went to the gun in my hand. “You aren’t going to need that.”

  I set the gun on the bar and slid it away. She didn’t know that I could magically pull it to my hand when needed. Or that, with a thought, I could make it disappear altogether. “I thought you’d left.”

  “I thought about it. I don’t usually buy into other people’s trouble. But they were ganging up on you. And you interest me.”

  “The altered space was designed to only allow preternaturals inside. That confirms you’re not human.”

  She nudged the bottle of champagne toward me. “What’s your point?”

  “What are you?”

  “That’s rude.”

  “One of my middle names. So is Evil Bastard and Drunken Flying Fuck. I’ve never been accused of being nice.”

  “Don’t make a lady wait. Open the bottle.”

  “Say please.”

  “If I’m drunk, I’ll probably let you have your way with me.”

  “I’m on it.” I snatched up the bottle and ripped way the foil. I pulled out the cork with my teeth and spit it back behind the bar. There was a pop. She slid two glasses over. I poured the wine and set the bottle down. She took her glass. I took mine. My dragon sense of smell sampled the bouquet. I didn’t detect poison, not that many poisons would have affected my half-dragon physiology. I did wait to see her take the first drink. She did so unflinchingly.

  I didn’t really think she wanted me dead. If she did, she could have fought with the mercs in the first place. Or come after me on her own. Judging from what was left of my attackers, Chrys was powerful. So powerful, I had a suspicion I wanted to test. I took a sip of the wine. Not bad. Casually, I asked, “How are things back in the Village?”

  She choked and sputtered her wine, turning staring eyes my way. “You know?”

  I lied. “I know everything. I’m a demon lord. I have connections throughout the world, and in multiple hell-dimensions, not to mention Under the Hill.” The world of the fey. “Running L.A. as an open city to nonhumans provides me with a wealth of resources.”

  She set her glass down, swiveling fully toward me. Her eyes went from startled to deep fascination, drinking me in as she leaned my way. “Running L.A.? You’re him, The Offender.”

  Offender? That’s a new one.

  I threw back my drink, emptied the glass, and slammed it down. “If by Offender you mean Caine Deathwalker, you’re absolutely right.”

  “You’re not supposed to exist. Your genetic codes are forbidden, impossible. My father would have a cow if he knew I was even breathing the same air as you.”

  I refilled my glass. “So are you going to run away and save yourself like I told you to earlier?”

  “I don’t always do what my Father likes.”

  Whoever her father was, I needed her to lure him into a meeting. That contact was a place to start my search for the portal to the Village. It could be anywhere in Las Vegas.

  The sound of police sirens drew close. The dead magician outside on the lounge chair had drawn attention. Or the missing bartender had called in the carnage and the devastation to his bar. Either way, we needed to leave. Fortunately, here on the Vegas Strip, other bars were readily available.

  I picked up the bottle and slid off my stool. “What do you say we get out of here?”

  “I’d love to.” She took my arm and pressed it against a nice-sized tit, staying at my side as we moved toward the back exit. Almost out, she stopped me, looking up into my face. “What about your gun?”

  I magically pulled it to me and held it up. “Right here.”

  “Hey, when did you…?”

  “I’m awesome, I know.” I swung the gun out of her line of sight and let it go, willing it back my California armory.

  Pushing through the back door, we entered a passageway in the hotel that led us to the lobby. “Just a minute,” Chrys said. “I need to check my messages.”

  “You have a room here?”

  She stopped a few feet from me, looking back. “Yes.”

  “Then why don’t we go up to your room and just call room service?”

  A sly smile stretched her red lips. “Then whatever will we do, all alone together—in that big suite?”

  “Hmmm. I could ravish you within an inch of your life, I suppose. It would pass the time.”

  “Within an inch of my life?”

  “I swear upon my over-read, illustrated copy of the Kama Sutra.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  We swung by the front desk and she asked for her messages. I took the opportunity to check my voice mail on my phone. One in particular caught my eye:

  CAINE, I WILL BE IN TOWN SOON TO FIRM UP SECURITY AT THE MYKONOS HOTEL. WE WILL BE RENTING THE TOP FLOORS FOR THE WEDDING, IF EVERYTHING LOOKS TIGHT AND DEFENSIBLE. PICK ME UP AT THE AIRPORT, 12:00 TONIGHT. DON’T MAKE ME COME LOOKING FOR YOU.

  —IMARI

  FIRST SWORD

  CLAN LAUPHRAM

  My first thought was: Who sends a text without abbreviating anything? My second thought was: Midnight? Hell, no. I won’t be done fucking by then. Anything under four hours is a quickie. My third thought was: Who the hell told her I was in Vegas? Even the Old Man wasn’t supposed to know. I didn’t want him loading me down with personal security that would just get in the way. The way Imari was going to. My fourth thought was: It’s Clan Deathwalker now. The Old Man has officially retired. My fifth thought was: Hey, Imari’s hot, and not just because she’s a fire demon. If I handle this right, we can have a threesome. My sixth thought was: Why the hell am I numbering my thoughts?

  “Ready to go up?” Chrys asked.

  Ready to get it up. Long past due, actually. “Sure,” I said.

  A loud voice boomed. “Caine, you old dawg!”

  I knew that voice. Imari wasn’t the only member of my demon clan that was crashing my social life. I turned toward the lobby entrance and saw Zero-T bearing down on me. He had two wheeled suitcases he tugged along. He wore black cargo pants and a Versace black silk shirt featuring scrambled-egg style metallic gold brocade. His hand sported one of my black opal rings with a silver band. The stone had gray and red flecks in it, shining like stars in a dark dimension. To my clan, it identified him as a member of my intelligence network.

  His silver-and-blue scaled demon face was hidden by a ceramic-mask that had the magical flexibility of real flesh. The spray-painted brown skin tone made him out to be a Brother, that and his mannerisms. He wasn’t any more ghetto than I was, but he was a devotee of the hip-hop lifestyle. He’d perfected his slang by watching many a black exploitation movie. I remembered one very long weekend; he’d made me sit through Cleopatra Jones, Foxy Brown, and Blacula, bribing me with an almost unending supply of Cuervo Gold. His intensity could easily wear a man down. The tequila had barely kept me from killing him.

  At least he wasn’t checking into my hotel. I would have to kill him then, for one reason or another. I sighed.

  Sometimes, I’m just too tolerant of my friends.

  I glared at him. “Go away. I’m busy.”

  He grinned, his gaze sliding over to Chrys. “So I see. Well, don’t mind me. I’m just in town for an internet sponsored poker tournament. Walking in here for a room, seeing you was the last thing I expected.”

  Great,” I said. “Get your room, settle in, but get your ass to the airport by midnight. Imari sent me a text. She’s hitting town and needs you to pick her up.”

  “Shoot! That ain’t it. The woman wants me bad. Once you’ve gone black…”

  Wanna-be black, I thought.

  “…you don’t go back,” he finished.

  I half expected him to do a “Michael Jackson” and adjust his crotch. Fortunately, h
e spared us all the embarrassment, and strutted up to the desk to register.

  “Interesting friend you’ve got there,” Chrys said. “He’s a demon?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But you’re not, right?”

  “No.”

  She tugged me toward the elevators. “So, how did you get to be a demon lord?”

  “Nepotism, pure and simple. My adoptive father was clan leader and he stuck me with the job, raising me to be the bad-ass of all bad-asses.” I pushed the call button and we waited for the car to come.

  “So, was there something else you wanted to be, back when you were a kid?

  “When I was a kid, all I wanted was to survive the training the Old Man put me through. There were times when I was sure he was trying to kill me, just not in a way anyone could blame him for. I survived him, I can survive anything.”

  “So that’s why my being a Villager doesn’t bother you.”

  “I’m part Villager myself, which came as a hell of a surprise. Most of my life, I thought I was at least half-human.”

  The doors opened. We stepped onto the car. She pushed the button for her floor. The doors closed and we rose. I pushed her into the corner and leaned in. “Hang on tight. I’m going to kiss you now.”

  I did, taking my time to do a thorough job. I bruised her lips with my urgency. They parted. Our tongues danced. She moaned into my mouth. I took that as a good sign. Her hands came up behind me, gripping my coat. My hand dropped low to the hem of her silver-scale dress. I slid the material up her thigh, baring more skin. We broke the kiss to take breaths.

  “Wow,” she said. “You obviously have had a great deal of practice.”

  “Fair warning: I have never been a one-woman kinda guy.”

  “At least I know what I’m getting into.”

  I stared into her eyes, giving her that cold, hard look I reserve for someone just before I shoot them in the knee. “No, you don’t.”

  The monster in my pants was hard as a steel bar. In my head, I heard my cock chuckling. She really doesn’t.

  I’ve often thought that I must be psychotic or something. From what I understand, most people don’t hear voices—from inside their pants. I pressed in and lifted her so she pressed against my cock.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh. My. God! That can’t be real.”

  “You will soon find out.”

  The doors opened. I backed away, letting her recover. She passed me and I followed, letting her guide me to her suite. Chrys used a key-card to let us in. Where she’d kept it, I couldn’t say; women have their mysteries. I hadn’t seen her open her little clutch purse.

  She dragged me by the hand across a living area, through a door, to a spacious bedroom done in ivory, tan, and cream. The rug was deep blue, patterned with concentric rings of medium blue. It was a target, the bull’s-eye partly covered by a massive king’s sized bed. Chrys let go of me and moved toward an open bathroom door.

  She murmured, “Get naked. I’ll just be a minute.” She went into the bathroom and closed the door.

  I walked over to the closed door and listened through it with my heightened dragon-born hearing. She was on her cell. “Yeah, he’s here right now. What do you want me to do?”

  Interesting. I wondered exactly who she was tipping off to my presence. Her dad? Were we going to be interrupted mid-fuck by party crashers? Moving away from the door, I stripped off my tie. I might need it to gag her. When she found I was onto her, she might do the wrong kind of screaming.

  I headed toward a wall that was all windows. Better close the blinds. Gunfire sprayed through them, shattering the glass. Black-clad mercs wearing weapon harnesses and ski masks came bursting into the room, dropping off of zip lines shot from a building across the street.

  I stared. “Really, now?”

  Their shots took out the lights. I noticed they all wore night-vision gear—which gave them no advantage over my half-dragon vision. My eyes adjusted quickly as I ducked, summoning a pair of Storm PX4 semi-automatics into my hands.

  THREE

  “I like violence and sex,

  just not at the same time.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  I flushed my Dragon Flame tattoo with raw magic, warming that patch of skin. The price for the spell hit me; a sensation of being slammed by a boulder from each side. My ribs felt like they were pulverized, bone slivers driving into my lungs. I shuddered and staggered a step. The phantom agony ghosted away. My left hand blazed with fire—dragon fire. At the core of the flames, my hand was an unharmed shadow. The fire burned hotter than natural, as stubborn as napalm, bright as a magnesium flare. Fortunately, dragon eyes are not blinded by their own flames; that would be counter-survival.

  The mercs weren’t so lucky. I heard a “Fuck!” and a “Damn it to hell!”

  So much for their night-vision gear.

  Having dropped off their zip lines, they clawed the eyewear from their faces. There were three of them this time, armed to the teeth, and one smelled fey. There was no telling what form his magic would take.

  I emptied my Beretta. Two of the men went down, the back of their heads exploding with exit wounds. The ammo clips I used contained a mix of rounds: silver around iron-wood cores for vamps and werewolves, mercury tips and, snake-shot for the hell of it.

  Yes, I’m a sadist. Everybody needs a hobby.

  Unfortunately, the shots went through the middle man, the fey. His glamour was more than strong. I can normally see through fey illusion to their real appearance. He had to be augmenting his magic somehow to hide where he really was.

  And soon as his eyes were working again…

  “Fuck!” Silver wire faded into view, wrapping me like a demented slinky. The stuff had barbs that bit into skin and muscle. My arms were cinched tight to my torso. I strained against the coils with dragon-born strength—which did no good. The damn stuff was spell-strengthened. The fey apparently was a silver mage. Silver is a soft metal; if it weren’t mystically enhanced, I’d have burst free already.

  I smiled.

  He’d made a bad mistake. In pinning my burning hand to my chest, he brought the dragon fire to the magic wire. The coils literally exploded, converted from solid to gas so fast it seemed to bypass the liquid state. The silver steam hung in front of me, and the remnant to the sides and back sprang off me, leaving bloody rips in my flesh that would soon heal.

  I sent the gun in my right hand back to my armory for magical reloading, and summoned a couple flashbangs—as the room’s sprinklers went off. An alarm sounded, a shrill banshee scream. I absorbed the dragon flame into my body, the drizzling water turning to steam on my skin.

  And then I saw the fey, a fairy type. She was all of six inches in height with clattering wings like those of a beetle. She wore a man’s gold ring as an impromptu crown. The emerald stone had a complex rune carved on it that contrasted nicely with her slate-green skin. She wore a tunic of mottled browns, hovering just off the floor.

  No wonder she’s hard to see. The small ones aren’t normally so powerful. The ring’s probably boosting her magic.

  My inner dragon had his gold-fire eyes open in the back shadows of my mind. The ring had caught his attention too. His voice echoed in my thoughts: Mine! I saw it first.

  Liar, but we are getting it. That’s a clue!

  I was about to bitch-slap the little fairy with a flash-bang grenade when the bathroom door slammed open and crushed her against a wall. Chrys stood on the bathroom threshold, staring at me, yelling. “What are you doing to my room, you crazy son of a bitch? They’re going to make me pay for all this!”

  I didn’t care. I didn’t answer either. All I could do was stare. She’d shed her clothes and taken down her braided hair. It fanned behind her, a spill of platinum. Her delightful curves and much more were thinly veiled by a sheer nighty of cobalt chiffon. The matching thong was small to the point of being almost non-existent.

  Gripped by lust, I hurried over. I pulled a fluffy white bathrobe off
the inside of the bathroom door, and wrapped her in it. I needed to take her someplace else, and while I didn’t mind flashing people bare ass, she might be more reserved. I slipped the grenades into her robe pockets. They might yet come in handy.

  “What did you do?” Chrys demanded.

  “Not my fault.” I yelled over the alarm. “More mercs came in through the windows.”

  “This is getting highly annoying!” she yelled.

  I took a moment to pick up the fairy behind the door and pocket the ring. See you in hell, Tinker-bitch. I flung the fey across the room, out the window, and into the night. I wasn’t sure if she were dead, but then, what did it matter? She wasn’t coming back any time soon.

  I dragged Chrys from the room. The alarms were going off in the living room, and from the sound, out in the hallway. I thought the whole floor was enjoying the experience. The hotel staff would have already started an evacuation, but it would be a while before they got to this room. I didn’t intend to wait for them.

  She dug in her heels. “I can’t leave like this! At least let me get my purse and grab some clothes.”

  “But, babe, you totally rock that robe. It’s sure to start a new trend.”

  “Caine!”

  “Trust me, clothes are way overrated. I should know.” I turned back, picked her up, and slung her over my left shoulder. She squealed nicely. I slapped her ass. “Quiet, woman. I am going to ravish you yet. Prepare yourself to walk funny for a week.” I carried her to the hallway door.

  She continued to comment. “You know, I could stop you, if I really wanted to.”

  “Maybe, but then you’d always wonder what exactly you missed out on. Can you live with that?”

  She pushed on my lower back to raise her head and spoke over her shoulder. “Fine, but if you don’t deliver, I’m tearing your heart out and feeding it to the dogs.”

  “The wild dogs that roam the Strip?”

  “I’ll buy some if I have to.”

  “Talk about pressure to perform…”

  I carried her out into the hall and headed for the elevators. People were out in the passage, milling about. Their shouted questions to one another added to the noise. I pushed through. One old lady with thick glasses stared as I passed. Her eyes bulged. Her mouth dropped open. She said, “Oh, my…!” I doubted anyone had ever carried her off for carnal purposes.