07- Black Blood Brother

by Morgan Blayde

  I nodded. “And he’ll come after me for it. But he’ll be unhinged, off balance. And after I kill his ass, the disturbance will give me leverage with the hub administration. I’m going to push for a ban of all silver dragons into our world.”

  Not that many of them want to come here anyway. The point’s to give the emperor another slap in the face in front of his people. He’s got it coming after forcing this marriage on Cousin Kinsey and the Old Man. Ban me from my mother’s world while you steal my throne? Fuck you.

  Time was, I’d simply rampage and kill—and kill some more—to settle my problems, but I had a clan, a kid, and a harem to protect. And long-term goals to achieve. It was past time to take a long view and start to shape the world I’d one day own.

  Solstice retied the crystal to her dreamcatcher’s frame and dangled the charm in front of her face as she muttered incantations. The crystal swung, the traffic light went green, and I sent the van rolling toward my magnificent destiny.

  TWENTY-TWO

  “The best treasure is a secret

  people don’t know you have.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  The scene outside Noctem was much the same as on my last visit: sandy brown brick, six-stories, double-window sets regularly spaced. The same electric sign stuck out above the door. And since it was not yet night, a CLOSED sign hung on the blood red, double doors.

  One difference was the panel van in front, the one the Old Man had been driving. The van was empty. He’d beaten me back here. He, Vivian, and Misty were likely inside. I parked behind the van and got out. Thorn, Quartz, and Stinky were with me. Solstice joined us on the sidewalk.

  I asked her, “DeSilver’s inside? You’re sure?”

  “He’s here. I’m not wrong this time.”

  Stinky said, “Maybe he’s here to make a move on King while he’s still in his coffin.”

  I looked at the blood red doors. They might be an ill omen. “You might be right. Solstice, you’ve done your job. I’m not going to ask you to go in with us.”

  “I’m not being paid enough to risk my neck,” she said. “My coven doesn’t expect it.”

  “You’d better make yourself scarce,” I advised. “You’ve seen my work.”

  She looked at the club and sighed. “And I liked this place.” She wandered off, pulling out a cell phone, probably calling for a ride.

  Thorn watched her go. His violet leaves rustled, movement not caused by the wind; there wasn’t any. He said, “Witches are into nature. Think she’d go out with me?”

  “If you do something about the thorns,” I said. They make holding hands difficult, to say nothing of doing the nasty.”

  Thorn said, “You’ve got a point.”

  Quartz started toward the club. The rest of us followed, happy to let him take the lead. Walking statues make good shields; bullets intended for me wouldn’t bother him.

  He asked, “Should I just kick in the door?”

  Thorn said, “My vine tips can pick the lock.”

  Who says plants are stupid.

  Thorn moved around Quartz at the door. Tendrils of vine wiggled into the lock, then withdrew. The boys went in. I followed, lagging back, looking to see if DeSilver was in dragon form. I wasn’t going to get caught by surprise this time. If he were dragon, I’d let the others play for time and get my own change going right away.

  Coming into the main space, I saw no silver dragon. The stage was empty as well, no dancers practicing their moves. Under the balcony, laughter echoed from the bar area. A crowd was there. The Old Man towered several feet above the others, his well-muscled blueness drawing the eyes. Imari stood out, as well, her black skin a nice contrast to the orange flames of her hair, and those flickering along her arms. She saw me, but didn’t wave, sending me a discrete nod instead.

  And there was DeSilver, in human form, relaxed, as if he were holding court. Vivian stood by him. She was healed, not favoring her arm at all. She’d fed. I saw a bottle of blood on the bar, King’s private stock.

  My demon guards and I headed that way. DeSilver turned as we came up on him, the stare he fixed on me cold and calculating. I knew from the lack of berserker fury that he didn’t know his significant other was no longer significant. Or alive.

  I stopped just out of arm’s reach, my demon security to either side.

  He asked, “Got enough protection, half-breed?”

  I killed your woman, you fuck, and you don’t even know she’s dead. Maybe I’ll let you find out on your own.

  I smiled in mockery. “The last time we met, you ran for your life like a chicken-shit coward. Or am I mistaken?”

  Vivian came at me, not quite at full speed. DeSilver held her back, like he was doing me a favor. He told her. “No. I promised his brother to leave vengeance to him.”

  I widened my taunting smile. “Not dragon enough to do your own dirty work. I understand. A silver is still a silver, and a half-breed gold is still a gold. Does the emperor usurping my throne know you’ve been sending mercenaries to kill a member of the royal family?”

  DeSilver crossed his arms. “Like he’d care.”

  The Old Man held a half-full, twenty-two-ounce beer stein. He used it to point at DeSilver. “He will care. You set a precedent. If a silver dragon can kill one scion of royalty, they might choose to kill another. Anyone can rationalize such a deed. It’s why you’ve acted in secret, right?”

  I nodded energetically, pointing at the Old Man. “Good point. How’s the beer?”

  “Not bad. German lager. Imported. I might buy the company.”

  I looked back at DeSilver. “So, what are you doing here?”

  “Withdrawing an offer on this place.” He looked at Vivian. “And picking up something I left here. After I speak to King’s business manager, I’m leaving this world with my pet.”

  Vivian’s control is good. If she weren’t undercover, she’d rip his tongue out for calling her that. Girl’s got a temper.

  “I’m right here, DeSilver.” The newcomer wore a suit without a coat, showing a fancy vest and rolled up shirt sleeves. He was a thin, small man, barely five-foot, with a baldhead and round glasses. He and a large group of human thugs pushed into the midst of everybody. “What’s going on here?”

  I said, “DeSilver found out King’s on friendly terms with me, so he’s withdrawing his offer to your boss.”

  “Mr. King extended courtesy in listening, but he wouldn’t sell the club. He loves this place.” The manager’s gaze took in Vivian next to DeSilver. The manager said, “He’s going to want to have words with you when he arises for the night. You’re supposed to be on our side.”

  She laughed. “Don’t expect me to hang around.”

  The manager smiled. “Oh, but I do.” He looked at one of the thugs with him. “Take her.”

  The whole group moved en mass toward her. Being human thralls, and not vamps like King, they posed no serious threat to Vivian.

  DeSilver grabbed her arm and pulled her away. The two moved around me, generally toward the front door. DeSilver’s dragon eyes were lightning bright, a solar glare that hid his face, a clear threat.

  I moved to intercept the human muscle, my demons with me. As long as Vivian was with him, I wanted DeSilver free—he might still lead me to his Villager accomplice.

  I lifted a hand for attention and addressed King’s thugs. “He’s a dragon. Provoke him and he’ll change, and bring this whole place down. I imagine that would make King very angry.”

  They stopped.

  The manager said, “You have a point. We’ll deal with the girl when she’s in other company.”

  I was happy none of my guys had asked stupid questions, breaking Vivian’s cover. That would have stolen an advantage I could now exploit.

  After watching DeSilver and Vivian leave together, I looked at the Old Man. “Did you hear what DeSilver called his partner?”

  The Old Man nodded, drained his mug, and looked at me again. “He called the Villager your brothe
r.”

  I said, “What are the chances? Maybe that was just a head game.”

  The Old Man went to the bar and set the mug down. “If your father could sire you, he could sire others, but I doubt it. He has few virtues, but he was always faithful to your mother as far as I know.”

  I joined him at the bar, leaning against it, between two of the high stools. One of King’s security people stood behind the bar, playing bartender. The regular staff didn’t seem to be here. I told him, “Give me a bottle. I don’t care what. Surprise me.”

  The manager came over and climbed up onto a stool. I think he didn’t like staring up, having the Old Man looming so high over him. He wiggled a finger, requesting a drink of his own, then looked at me. “I take it you’d prefer we stayed out of your way on this one?”

  “I would really appreciate it. This is looking like family business now.”

  He nodded. “You’ll owe Mr. King a favor.”

  “Within reason,” I said.

  He nodded. “Within reason.”

  Drinks were poured. Bourbon. Good choice. I picked up my shot glass and drained it. “Hit me again.” I looked past the manager to where the Old Man had seated himself. “The Villagers wouldn’t need my father to clone his son.” I remembered the samples of my sperm that Chrys had been so anxious to acquire. They played with genetics as much as Selene did, though with different results.

  The Old Man said, “You told me this Villager you’re hunting fought you almost to a stand-still, before you pulled out the win.”

  My glass was refilled. I picked it up. “He’s stronger in shadow magic, though less inventive. He knew enough to strip off my dragon tats—with DeSilver’s help—but he didn’t know enough about me. Villager arrogance made him underestimate me.” Another thought occurred. “He kept his face and voice hidden through the whole fight. Maybe, under that stupid mask of his, he wears a face that looks a lot like mine and he didn’t want me to know.”

  “Could be,” the Old Man mused.

  The manager finally finished his glass, having approached his drinking in multiple, cautious sips. “You will keep Mr. King appraised as events unfold?”

  There was a stir from those closest to the door. I heard approaching footsteps echoing. I smelled a werewolf in human form; the wolf is more diluted. A commanding voice said, “Police. Make a hole.”

  I spun on my stool and watched the crowd part, revealing Det. Eberhard Winter of the Las Vegas Preternatural Unit. Holding up his badge, he pushed past my demons and King’s thugs, coming up to the bar. His dark blond hair looked burnished and his amber wolf eyes had a hint of glow.

  “Need a drink?” I asked.

  “With you in town, absolutely, but I’m on duty.”

  The manger slipped off his stool to confront the cop. “And you would be?”

  “Woo-woo Squad,” I said.

  The manager said, “All our permits are in order.”

  “Nice to hear it.” Winter put his badge away. “My business is with Deathwalker here.”

  I looked around, catching gazes. If you guys could give us a little privacy…”

  Everyone drifted off, my demons to one side, King’s manager and security the other way. The Old Man stayed where he was, loudly slurping down another beer.

  Winter noticed the Old Man. “What’s that?”

  “That is Lord Lauphram, former master of the L.A. demon clan, and the last Atlantean demon.”

  Except for his renegade son whom I will one day track down and kill—when the Old Man isn’t looking.

  Winter studied the Old Man, craning his neck to do so. “Big.”

  “And loveable.” The Old Man flexed a twenty-two-inch bicep. “I should have my own action figure.”

  “Still working on that,” I lied.

  Winter looked at me. “Your Dad.”

  “Yeah.” The one who raised me anyway. “What can I do for you?” I turned my stool toward the bar where another drink waited. I picked it up and threw it back, enjoying the smooth burn all the way down.

  “I did tell you I was having you watched.” Winter took the open stool the manger had abandoned, sitting between the Old Man and me.

  I slanted him a stare. “I’d have known without that; you did find me here after all.”

  His hands were folded on the bar. “My people followed you over to that warehouse. You know, the one gutted by solar flares, with the giant, headless snake in it.”

  “Dragon’s tail,” the Old Man said, “not a snake.”

  Winter leaned into the bar and looked past me to the Old Man. “Really?” He shifted back and stared at me, lifting eyebrows.

  “No,” I said. “It’s not my tail. I’m not a silver dragon.”

  He nodded. “You fought a silver dragon there. Did you kill it?”

  “Her.” I spun the empty shot glass on the bar, watching it wobble. “Are you wearing a wire? I wouldn’t want to incriminate myself.”

  “Las Vegas D.A.s don’t prosecute dragon slayers. You have more to fear from PETSA.”

  People for the Ethical Treatment of Supernatural Animals. Yeah, they are a scary lot.

  Winter’s said, “Take care of the damage, and we’ll call it good.”

  The Old Man said, “No problem.”

  “Is that it?” I asked.

  “For now.” Winter slid off his stool. “By the way, the man and woman who left as I came in. Are they someone I need to know about?”

  I said, “The man is a silver dragon, someone I’ll have to kill, especially when he finds out I offed his girlfriend in that warehouse. The lady with him is just some stray dhampyr, a gun for hire.”

  Winter sighed from the depths of his soul. “You are such high maintenance. Is this how you do things back in L.A.?”

  The Old Man rocked with laughter. “Oh, yes. You get used to it, after a while. Boys will be boys.”

  I glared at him. “You’re not helping.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  “In order to own the world, you

  have to act like you already do.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  A thoughtful look on his face, King’s business manager returned as Winter strolled away. The manager said, “You have a contact in the Preternatural Unit. You work fast.”

  I decided to let him think what he wanted. “I have pull everywhere. In case you haven’t been told, besides being a hub lord, and demon lord, I am a lord among the fey, the true king of the dragon world—though in exile—and I’ve got an insane goddess who’s hormonal because she’s carrying my child. Imagine the destruction I could heap on my enemies with her alone.” I gave him a hard, dead stare. “Tell King to leave Vivian alone. She’s a double agent working for me.”

  The Old Man spoke up. “And I’m the one who sunk Atlantis. Anyone messes with Caine, messes with me.”

  Yeah, cause only you’re allowed to make my life hell.

  I said, “Thanks for the support, Old Man.”

  “No problem.”

  The manager said, “Vivian?”

  “Lois’ real name,” I said.

  The manager inclined his head in assent. “I will pass your message along.”

  I cocked my head sideways, softening my stare to one of casual inquiry. “I don’t believe I caught your name.”

  “Emmett Gaines, at your service.”

  “How are things coming on the party?” I shot the Old Man a look to clue him in that this was about him, and saw him sliding bodily over the bar. He’d gotten tired of waiting for a bartender to come along and refill his beer mug.

  Service is never good at a bar that’s technically closed.

  Gaines said, “The arrangements have been made for tomorrow night. Your people can start arriving after eight. Just have them tell the doorman they’re with the Deathwalker party.”

  Gaines turned and watched the Old Man drain his mug and pour another. “Perhaps I should double the alcohol order.”

  “At least,” I said. “I’ll be there, too.
One more thing, while Vivian’s undercover, neither you nor King should say anything to make your people think Lois isn’t working for DeSilver. A slip could endanger a well-placed asset.”

  “Assets are important. I will be cautious. Mr. King will do as he pleases. He always does.”

  “Just tell him who sunk Atlantis,” the Old Man boomed. “My people…my people… Damn bastards had it coming.”

  Really, I can’t take you anywhere. How much beer have you had?

  I formed a hand of shadow behind him and smacked the back of his ginormous blue head.

  He froze, then turned to look at me. “Wh’z that for?”

  I smiled with delight. “No cussing, remember?”

  Gaines shook his head sadly. “You people are demons?”

  “They are,” I said. “I’m an honorary demon. But I get to boss them around. Life is sweet.”

  “For some of us. I have to get back to work.” Gaines walked away. Passing his security men, he said, “Show them to the door before they drink us dry.”

  There were a bunch of “Yes, sirs” and the thugs came our way. I called to the Old Man. “Time to go.”

  “But I’m sobering up already.”

  The head thug was one I’d met before. He jerked a thumb toward the Old Man. “Is he going to be able to find the front door? He’s too big to carry.”

  “We really gotta go?” I asked.

  The thug shrugged. “I just do what I’m told.”

  “He sunk Atlantis, you know? Storm magic. Very powerful.”

  The thug showed me desperate eyes. “Please.”

  I yelled at the Old Man. “If you drink all the beer, there won’t be any for your party tomorrow night.”

  He sighed. “Fine. We’ll hit a liquor store on the way back to the hotel. I’m suddenly in the mood for cognac.” Coordination intact, he moved with sureness and purpose, coming out from behind the bar.

  The rest of us followed. Outside the front door, the head thug stopped me. “Deathwalker?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did he really sink Atlantis?”

  I nodded gravely. “Yeah. They asked him to pay his bar bill.” Laughing on the inside, I strolled to my parked van. I opened the door to the front passenger seat. My demon guards were bunched around me. I said, “One of you guys can drive. I want to do some thinking.”