Demon Lord 4: White Jade Reaper

by Morgan Blayde

  Rasputin bent space, stepping into one of his disks of distortion. He reappeared amid the second group and threw the SWAT members, two by two, into the distortion. The last few to go tried to repay his kindness with gunfire. His speed defeated their attempt to kill him. The tesseract didn’t return the men elsewhere in the theater. I had to assume he’d set them outside,

  to safety.

  I used the time they’d bought me, sending out a thought and summoned my Berettas from the satchel in the car trunk. I’d gone through most of the regular ammo, and should now be tapping the explosive rounds. The semi-automatics appeared in my hands. “Now for my next trick…” Since returning from Atlantis on a trip through time, I’d been building up my strength and technique using Shadow magic, the Old Man’s specialty. It was time for that training to pay off.

  “Grace, pay attention. There will be a test later.” Shadow bled from pores, welling to dark and consume my hands. I opened my fingers and the shadow hands drifted off into the air, closing to grip the guns. I lowered my flesh hands to my side, concentrating my will on the shadow version I’d just created. Those hands carried the guns out over the much-abused seating. The hands and weapons gained speed, sliding through the gloom, past the glowing tentacles, and up into that partly nebulous body.

  “How are you doing that?” Grace asked.

  “You figure it out. Now, where do you suppose that creature keeps its brain?”

  Onyx spoke from behind me. “Want me to find out?”

  “Stop sneaking up on me,” I grumbled. “And yeah, I want to know where its brain is. Can you pinpoint it without getting yourself eaten by that thing?”

  His voice went deep, telling me he was stripping away the illusion of humanity, becoming pure darkness. “Sure, I am nothingness, emptiness. Emptiness cannot be consumed.”

  Darkness swelled past me from behind. I lost sight. Cold stole my heat. The worst part of it was the sensation that something primal and terribly hungry was breathing down my neck, wondering if I were tasty. I held still. A moment later, the darkness filling the hall contracted. I looked to the side. Grace was there, and Onyx looking like the goofy kid he wanted us to believe he was. The look in Grace’s eyes told me she knew this, too, and didn’t care because she carried the same darkness. I think she did a better job pulling human off since she’d been raised that way by a human stepmother.

  Onyx pointed at the main hump near the top. “There are electrical patterns there, a mind of sorts. Very primitive. If you start on top, I’d go down six or seven feet.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  With shadow magic, I’d been piloting my guns around the floating beast. I figured the outer shell was too hard. I need a soft entry point. I went in through the eyes. The semi-automatics pierced the lens, the ocular fluid, and zipped along what was probably the optic nerve. This became difficult as the beast flinched and thrashed. Its tentacles broke off, falling to the floor.

  Hurts, huh?

  Guessing I was just about where I needed to be, I willed my shadow hands to fire the guns. There were red bursts seen through the creature’s cloudy hide. It whipped about, churning, and tore itself apart.

  “Yes, got you! And that’s how it’s done.”

  “Not exactly,” Grace said. “Look.”

  I did. The part of it with the damaged brain turned dark and stiff, tumbling to the floor where it shattered a section of seating. The other half of it assumed more of a tri-corner shape, resuming stability with three sprouting eyes. I was willing to bet it had also grown several auxiliary brains as well. The eyes were covered by clear shells for added protection. It also developed a wide slash of a mouth. The slash opened to show teeth that bore a strong resemblance to cave formations. Stalactites and stalagmites locked with rumbling crunches. Without trailing appendages to anchor it, the smaller beast tumbled in an unbalanced rotation that made it harder to hit.

  I screamed at it. “Why the fuck won’t you die!”

  It screamed a response, a sound like Tukka’s roar, beating across us all.

  The thing wasn’t really smart, but it was a hell of a mimic.

  Rasputin and Cassie were back with Madison. She had several anti-tank missiles. The slayer said, “You would not believe what I had to go through to get these.”

  “Try them,” I said. “I don’t think it will help.”

  “So what do we do?” Onyx asked.

  “Good question,” I said.

  I watched Madison set up, bracing a tube on her shoulder. Realizing he was going to swallow the backlash, Tukka ran out from behind her. She fired. The missile streaked and exploded against the creature’s shell. Its lips parted a little and a grating sound emerged.

  It’s laughing at us,” I said.

  Unexpectedly, the creature lost the glow of its life energy, the blue-purple shine inside its translucent body dimming to a pale gray shimmer muted by its crystalline crust.

  “I just had a terrible thought,” I said.

  Grace and Onyx answered in unison: “What?”

  “What if this is just a larval state and what’s coming next is even worse?”

  “How much worse can it get?” Rasputin asked.

  I turned to Onyx. “Can your shadow eat that thing, maybe contain it? You extend to other spaces, you said. Is there some place you can strand it?”

  “And make it someone else’s problem? No. To be on Grace’s world, I have to follow the rules her father sets for our kind. I am forbidden from doing as you say.”

  “I wouldn’t tell,” I said.

  “Shadow men cannot keep secrets from each other. By touching, what one of us knows the others find.” He looked at Grace. “I will do nothing that cuts me off from her, no matter how many of your kind must perish.”

  Grace blushed, but contrary wise, frowned at him. “People are important. You’re supposed to care about them.”

  “Would you say that if you hadn’t been raised human?” Onyx asked.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Grace said. “That’s how I was raised.”

  “I have a plan,” I admitted, a chill sliding down my spine. “It’s highly dangerous, and I know I’m not going to like it.”

  Madison shot off another rocket with no greater success, and said a mildly bad word.

  Cassie turned her smile on me. “What are you waiting for?”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  “A good curse goes a long way.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  The mysterious Virgil and Janet d’Arc were waiting when I stepped down from the damaged magic-user’s truck with the warded spell box in my hand. The container was a one of those the sorceress normally used to store mystic relics in. It was rectangular, steel, and just big enough for the white jade flute to go into. The outside of the box had sigils, runes, and mystic sign from dozens of cultures engraved into the metal. Their purpose was to keep the sealed object inert and safe. Nobody had wanted to give me the flute or Hastings, but I needed them both to make this work. Paul Hastings still wore cuffs, but they were in front, not in back as was protocol. I needed him able to use his hands. Still, I had to help him down out of the truck.

  “You don’t need to keep the cuffs on,” Hastings said. “We have a deal. I’ll do my part.”

  Virgil stared coldly at him. “Yes, you will. And you’ll wear the cuffs until what we need is done.”

  “Your record will be wiped clean,” I said, “and you’ll be left with the flute. My word on it as a demon lord.” I stared at Virgil to make sure he understood what I wanted.

  He nodded slightly. Everything I needed would be done. He would follow my direction in this.

  “I still don’t like it.” Janet glared with disgust at Hastings. “You’ll getting off way too lightly.”

  He stared back at the sorceress. “Oh, so you never killed anyone? I can tell that you have. I bet you liked it, too.”

  She lunged at him.

  Virgil caught her. “Stick to the plan. It’s the best we got without b
ringing in a small, tactical nuke.”

  “Virgil, you’ve cleared the property?”

  “Only Onyx is near the creature, keeping it distracted. I’ve got to get me a shadow man. They’re damn handy to have around.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to be able to pry him away from Grace.” I kept the box under my arm and shoved Hastings toward the Music Hall. “Let’s get started.”

  He walked toward the building, and the monster he’d created, and he whistled a little tune in perfect pitch, with perfect timing, the way a robot might. We passed a Rasputin. He stood ready to do his part the next time we came this way.

  He nodded curtly to me. “I hope you know what you are doing, Caine.”

  I smiled. “I’m almost positive.”

  Hastings looked Rasputin over and then shifted his face toward me. “What’s his part in the plan?”

  “He’s insurance that the monster won’t catch us until we want him to.” I went on across the partially cleared parking lot and into the building, keeping one eye on my prisoner. Inside the lobby, he said, “Caine, that’s a nice name. The name of a killer.”

  I didn’t look at him. “Yes. It is.”

  “You like to kill, don’t you?”

  “Sometimes. Sometimes, it’s just a job that needs doing. But unlike you, I only kill people one time.”

  “So you’re so much better than me?” Hastings laughed. “That’s funny.” There were still a lot of bodies lying around. A lot of ugliness. A lot of blood. Once we were gone, the authorities would move in and clean up what would be officially labeled a terrorist bombing. The school would not be reopening.

  We reached the double doors to the auditorium. They were open; all doors and windows were open in a desperate attempt to ventilate the space. The returning cleanup crew were going to need hazmat gear. My half-dragon physiology gave me toughness and some scented Vaseline under my nose helped block a lot of the stench. Hastings loved death. I wanted him to

  come in unprotected and get a good look at it.

  We walked down an aisle I’d seen way too much of and looked up the tricorner beast. It floated inside a spiral of darkness, unable to push past Onyx, bidding its time. Meanwhile, it had continued to modify itself. The outer shell had prickly, glass like spines. They seemed to dance with high voltage cores. I wouldn’t be surprised if the spines could be launched like missiles. So nice of Madison to teach it that. This thing must have a highly rewritable genetic code.

  Hastings stood enraptured. “So beautiful.”

  “Yeah, but it’s too dangerous to leave wandering around. You’re going to help us coral it.”

  Hastings looked at me. “I said I’d help, and I will. I don’t want indiscriminate killing. Death is an art. Mass killing has no beauty. It’s imprecise and leaves nothing to savor, but ugliness.”

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and read a text: GOT IT. ON MY WAY.

  A moment later, a hole in space opened up. Izumi stepped out of the portal. Hot as hell, for a winter fey. Her white hair gleamed like ice. She wore an off-the-shoulder dress of pale blue. Smiling a greeting, she hurried over, kissed me, and handed me an open band with a lock and a small charge of C4 attached to a radio transmitter. At least, that was what I told her to make the thing look like.

  “Stay safe,” she said.

  “Go,” I said. “I’m working.”

  She left and I put the collar on Hastings. He struggled a little. I was forced to bitch slap him. “Behave. This will come off when it’s time. I’m giving you the flute, but if you use it on me, a dead man’s switch will blow your head clean off. I have to take the precaution. You understand.”

  “Indeed I do. Trust is so hard to come by in this cold world.”

  I let him see me holding a small box with a button on it, something Virgil’s guys had whipped up in no time. I pushed the button and held it in. “There, betray me and die.” I handed him the box with the flute in it. “Alright, piper, do your job.”

  With cuffed hands, he took out the flute. It had no ill effect on him; he knew its secrets. He played a slow, experimental riff. I felt nothing trying to get hold of me. I yelled to Onyx. “You’re done. Get out of here.”

  The black coil collapsed and became a man. He walked away without looking back. No fuss. Very low drama. One of the things I liked about him.

  The creature spun and looked around, one of its eyes spying Hastings and me. He created it, but that was before its rebirth. I didn’t know if any of those memories survived. Still, the flute had shaped it, nurtured it, and commanded its energies. If nothing else, the relic would dominate by shear force being incredibly powerful. We’d see how powerful now.

  The melody touched it. The hate in its eyes died down. It settled lower, drawn by the sound. Then it was swooping in faster.

  I shoved Hastings. “Run.”

  We hurried up the aisle, and out the doors. As we crossed the lobby, it exploded a section of wall, making itself an exit. I looked briefly back. Several of those glowing spines were gone. I’d been right about their use. Hastings and I went out into the parking lot as the creature paused to reorient on us. I didn’t look back as another explosion sounded. We ran straight toward Rasputin, knowing the thing was hot on our trail.

  I could almost feel its hunger for the music, for the flute. That desire was like a sunburn on the back of my neck. We’d hooked our fish.

  A lens of air appeared, one where light bent in distortion. Hastings and I hit that lens and we were over by the Victorian mansion, Raspy by our sides. “I hope you can keep doing that,” I said. “The energy drain must be hell.”

  “I fed heavily while you were working out your plans,” he said. “Rest assured, I will do my part.”

  “And I will get you Cassie’s home phone number,” I promised.

  “You had better not fail me,” Rasputin warned. “It is an affair of the heart.”

  Yeah, maybe you’ll grow on her.

  I snapped at Hastings. “Play.”

  He did, but I don’t think it was sound alone that drew the monster’s attention to us. He turned in the night wind and chugged our way, full steam, the little train that could. We ran around the mansion to its back and up onto the crest of the hill. Section by section, jump by jump, we led him cross-country to the hidden cemetery. It wasn’t visible at first, but—as Hastings played—the gate faded into view. The headstones beyond marked countless victims to his madness.

  Rasputin swung open the gate to the pocket dimension. Hastings went in and began to play. I went up to Rasputin. “I’ve got it from here,” I said.

  Rasputin stared into my eyes. “I have seen into this mortal’s soul. It is a filthy, damned thing.”

  “I won’t argue,” I said.

  “Hmmmph. And their kind calls us monsters.”

  I shrugged. “Truth is, we all are, one way or another. Some folk just hide it really well. Some are just tiny monsters. It’s those that don’t cage their darkness that make more work for the rest of us.”

  Rasputin laughed at that and walked away. After a few steps, a lens of air and light whisked him away, and the laughter died.

  The flute music soared, haunting, beautiful, and sinister all at once. Answering, the monster floated into view, only a hundred feet in the air, closing fast. The reaper stopped playing as the monster over shot him and made a broad turn. Hastings returned to the gate, holding the flute laxly in his hand. “I’ve kept my word. You keep yours.”

  “I will.” The black helicopter had near silent rotors. I had to strain my dragon hearing to pick up the whisper. Virgil was up there, my ride home.

  A red dot appeared over Hasting’s heart, the laser sight of a sniper rifle locking on. Hastings didn’t see it. He didn’t see a lot of things. These next few seconds were going to be highly educational.

  I took my finger off the button.

  Hastings stared, tense, eyes bugging out. His head stayed on. No explosion.

  “Ah, I see,”
he said. “You were bluffing.”

  “Not really. That was a dead man’s switch. But the signal wasn’t meant for you. It simply tells Virgil we’re done, so he can do his part.”

  Hasting’s smile went a bit crooked. “His part?”

  I stepped aside, as if to let him out.

  A hole appeared in his heart. Blood burst from his chest and his back. He fell back as the sound of the shot washed over us. I closed the door, letting him keep the flute as I’d promised. I am a man of my word—sometimes. I closed the gate, completing the circuit. The graveyard faded away. With luck, it would never be found again.

  The helicopter landed and I strolled over. I climbed in the back, sitting behind Virgil and his rifle. “Nice shooting,” I said.

  “Coming from you, that’s a compliment.”

  Ignoring us, the pilot lifted into the air.

  I looked at Virgil. “What do you mean by that?”

  “You think we don’t know, but we do. You’ve taken out a number of questionable targets over the last few years. On the whole, though, they’ve been necessary to keeping the public peace, and have served the public good. If that changes, expect an unpleasant visit from Cassie.”

  I shrugged. “I’m fine with that, as long as you’re fine with the Red Lady burning this country to ashes if you do.”

  He was quiet a long time as we flew back to the conservatory.

  Finally he said, “Okay, I see your point.”

  EPILOGUE

  Pleasantly drunk and recently laid, I staggered across the garage of my Malibu mansion, entering the kitchen. Morning wasn’t far away. The place seemed overly quiet, getting a lot less use since the Old Man moved back to the Clan House. The light of the stove’s hood cast a soft, white glow that thinned the gloom. Still, I almost walked unheedingly past the great black leopard with the blazing yellow eyes. I stopped and swung toward her. “Hi, Leona. Nice of you to wait up.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it, but that mutt of yours is back.”