Demon Rogue (The Half-Demon Rogue Book 1)

by Erikson, D. N.

  Unfortunately, in a cruel bit of irony, the warlock had then died of alcohol poisoning. Leaving Lux without its bartender, and Trevor without a human body. So now he was stuck beneath the bar, giving instructions to this bumbling idiot.

  Fortunately for Gunnar, I drank my whiskey whether it was watered down or served right.

  Trevor also played a mean blues, so I’d say that Lux took a pretty big hit that night. Lesson learned: don’t overserve warlocks. They tend to become dicks after the twelfth finger of tequila.

  “You’re telling me about problems,” the shrill voice answered. “I got more problems than—hoooooo.”

  He cursed beneath his breath as I laughed.

  “It’s not funny,” Trevor protested. “I can’t control it.”

  “Someone’s selling drugs in the parking lot,” I said, once I managed to stifle my laughter.

  “I’ll be sure to call the cops,” Trevor said.

  “Blood with essence,” I said. “Human dealer. Last time humans started drinking supernatural blood …”

  There was a long silence. The band finished their set, and the crowd cheered.

  Finally, Trevor said, “Shit.”

  “Keep your ears open,” I said. “I know how good they are.”

  I tapped the top of the bar, which he hated. A flurry of expletives came from where they kept the dishware, but I paid him no heed. I ducked beneath the divider and headed to the back, where Gunnar kept his office.

  I walked along the classy, wood-trimmed hall until I reached his door. It was open. I heard a cash machine spitting out bills.

  Gunnar didn’t look up to greet me. His long blond hair was draped over his broad shoulders. A permanent couple days’ worth of movie star growth dotted his square jaw. His tailored navy suit pants were slightly wrinkled from where his legs had been crossed. His feet were now propped freely on his desk, his expensive leather chukkas reflecting the dim blue light.

  As usual, the top three buttons of his designer shirt were undone, exposing his bare chest.

  “It has been a good night,” Gunnar said, still locked into the bill counter. “But from your aura, I cannot say the same thing for you, my friend.”

  “They should pay you for readings,” I said as I stepped inside and closed the door. The money counter stopped, displaying the final total. It was more than I’d made in the past half year. I doubted it was from Lux’s till.

  “Advice comes free for friends,” Gunnar said. He looked up, his ice blue eyes flashing with the sign of a smile. Even if he wasn’t a vamp, looking like that, he could charm the hell out of you. “You have something interesting, I hope.”

  Now it was my turn to smile. The unflappable Gunnar, sore because of an early awakening. I made him wait a beat longer, then I took the paw out of my leather jacket and tossed it on the table.

  Isabella’s blood had dried since this morning, but Gunnar’s nose still wrinkled.

  “You did not tell me she was involved.”

  When it comes to blood, vamps can tell you anything you need to know. Their whole existence is tailored around the stuff, and the sensing equipment comes standard. The best DNA lab in the damn universe couldn’t tell you the things a vamp could from the tiniest drop of blood.

  “She’s the one who brought the paw,” I said.

  “Isabella Kronos will be the death of us all,” Gunnar said, with no hint of mirth.

  “Appreciate the sunny outlook.” Gunnar’s serious disposition could strip paint from the walls. Given the circumstances, though, I’d say he was right to be unamused. Especially since Isabella wasn’t even first on the list of my problems.

  “Just being honest.”

  “Tell me about the foot,” I said. “What does it belong to?”

  Gunnar brought the severed paw up to his nose and drew in a long sniff, like he was savoring a fine wine. His eyebrows furrowed, and he took another drag.

  “Werewolf,” he said after staring at the bloodied fur for a moment. “Definitely.”

  “Why the pause?”

  “Perhaps I am slipping in my old age,” he said.

  “Bullshit,” I said. “What else is there?”

  “I can’t be sure, but I think the creature was alive. Weakened, but breathing when the cut was made.”

  “Gender?”

  “Male.”

  Diana would love that development. Her “friend” the werewolf had been kidnapped. Whether the bits of him left behind in the photo were as a warning, or the aftermath of an essence draw, this was shaping up to be a salvage mission in the truest sense of the world.

  She had said dead or alive, though.

  “So you’re telling me I gotta retrieve a living creature?”

  “It is a possibility,” Gunnar said, handing me back the paw.

  “What about this?” I pulled the vial of blood from the dealer out from my jacket and handed to him. His blue eyes flashed with white heat.

  “Where did you acquire this?”

  “Your parking lot. An aspiring entrepreneur was happy to sell it for a hundred bucks.”

  Gunnar cursed and peered at the contents. “You remember the last time this happened, yes?”

  “Hard to forget.”

  “It cannot happen again.”

  “Not in my control,” I said. “But do your little sniffer thing, tell me what you can.”

  I didn’t have to tell him twice. Gunnar hastily unscrewed the cap, moving so fast that I couldn’t see his hands. When he smelled the capsule, he recoiled and vomited.

  Seeing a vampire throw up isn’t a pleasant sight. Blood sprayed all over the wooden trim on the walls as Gunnar hacked. I backed up, out of the blast radius, and waited until he stopped being sick. After a few minutes, he wiped his mouth and glanced at his suit.

  “Ruined,” he said with a growl, his fangs flashing for a split-second.

  “You can afford it,” I said. “What’d you find?”

  “Poison,” he said. “It will kill us if we drink it.”

  “You and your vamp friends?”

  “I do not have any vampire friends,” Gunnar said. He took out his pocket square and dabbed at the edges of his pale cheeks. “You know this.”

  “Maybe I do, maybe I forgot,” I said.

  “It will be fatal to all supernatural creatures,” Gunnar said. “Anything infused with essence.”

  “Don’t drink the water, then, I guess.” I took back the vial, handling it like a hazardous material. “I gave Trevor the heads-up.”

  This brought a wry smile from Gunnar. “Give him something to do.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  I turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Gunnar said. He darted in front of me before I could get to the door. Vamps. “There is one other thing I have sensed.”

  “Death, destruction, pain. Yeah, I got it.”

  “No,” Gunnar said, his blue eyes meeting mine, “the blood in the drug. It came from your werewolf.”

  I didn’t react, but inside, I felt the puzzle becoming even more jumbled. “Thanks.” I pushed past him, into the hallway.

  “Be careful out there.”

  “Always am.”

  “Now that is a lie, Kal,” Gunnar said.

  Then he went back to counting his cash, and I walked out of Lux, with more questions and wildcards than when I had entered.

  So I wasn’t prepared when, just as I reached the Cutlass, a burst of white hot fire came down from the air, shattering the asphalt. When the dust and smoke settled, a woman clad in ancient battle armor emerged.

  “Kalos Aeon,” she said. “How long has it been?”

  “Not long enough, Athena.”

  Her short braid of golden hair swished back and forth as she walked forward. I tensed. Her aura was the strongest I had ever enc
ountered.

  “Then I’ll make this short,” the woman said, her hand on the bronze blade. “You will halt your investigation into this matter and leave Inonda in three days.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “The tainted werewolf blood. Drop your inquiry immediately.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “The Crimson Conclave is handling this business internally.” Her scabbard quivered, and I thought about drawing down with the .45. Like it would do any good. She was faster than lightning, and twice as deadly.

  “That’s convenient,” I said with a grim smile.

  “As the Queen, I rarely make personal visits. Consider this a courtesy because of your storied reputation.”

  “What an honor,” I said with heavy sarcasm.

  “Who brought you this case?”

  “That’s confidential.”

  “I see your code is still in effect,” Athena said, no trace of amusement on her lips. “Funny that a demon could survive so long ignoring his nature.”

  “It’s good for business,” I said. “Nothing else.”

  She looked past me, at the rust-battered car, and rolled her eyes. “Clearly.”

  “Is there anything else,” I said curtly, “because I have places to be.”

  “Places that are unrelated to this supernatural chop-shop, I presume.” Athena held up a finger and wagged it in my face. “Three days, Kalos.”

  “And if I refuse,” I said, surprising myself with my bold words.

  Athena’s gauntleted hand gripped the sword hilt tighter. “Then you will perish.”

  And then, quick as she came, she returned to the sky.

  I checked my phone. A little past nine. I’d have to mark my calendar, because I wasn’t dropping the investigation.

  Not now. Things had just gotten interesting.

  6

  I would’ve asked Athena how she knew what I was up to, but that would have been mildly insulting. Inonda was one of the Four Points of Texas, which meant it got a lot of scrutiny from the Crimson Conclave.

  And Athena, being the Queen of said outfit, was well apprised of the happenings in our dusty, semi-lawless town.

  My hands shook as I tried to put the key in the Cutlass’ lock. After three tries, I managed to get inside. I practically collapsed on the rough vinyl seat. When I was saying it hadn’t been long enough, that wasn’t just snark.

  I could live a million years, and seeing Athena the Goddess Killer again would be too damn soon. As a general rule, I tried not to mess with those who had slain goddesses. Legend went, this woman had deliver the finishing sword thrust against a wounded Athena during Ragnarok and adopted the goddess’ name as a sort of trophy and warning to her enemies.

  Oh, and this was no small thing, but Athena had also drained her namesake’s essence. And, from what I’d heard, gods had a lot of that stuff on tap.

  What type of creature Athena was, no one really knew. But that didn’t matter. She was dark and powerful, and you didn’t poke her, unless you wanted to end up dead.

  Curiosity, though, muted my fear as the wheels turned in my brain. Why the hell did Athena care about some sort of chop-shop drug operation in Inonda? My first inclination had been that this was scary shit: someone was trying to get all powerful, literally swallow other creatures’ power. But the poisoned blood threw all that off. Still bad, for sure, given what happened last time mortals drank supernatural blood. We were almost exposed.

  I punched the steering wheel. The horn blared.

  That was it.

  Someone was trying to get the mortals’ attention—bring their focus to the unseen, what couldn’t be explained. They wanted the supernatural forced from the shadows, out into the light of day.

  Was it someone within the Crimson Conclave? Is that what Athena had meant when she had said it was being handled internally? A transgression like this wouldn’t go unanswered. It made me wonder just who Diana was.

  The methodology was especially curious.

  There were other ways to announce our presence to the unknowing world at large. String a vamp up by its fangs, maybe, or force someone to shift on live TV. But there was a more sinister, slow burn element to this way of doing it. Like the perpetrator was using it as a method of torture, roasting us all over the flame and watching us squirm.

  Or maybe chaos.

  I’d say it was something Marrack would do, but even he wasn’t that dumb. We all lived through the Inquisition.

  Well, not all of us.

  I turned the key in the ignition and stepped on the gas. Checking my reflection in the mirror, I said, “Three days, eh? Well, fuck her.”

  Then I floored it out of Lux’s parking lot and headed home.

  *

  I pulled into the apartment complex a little after ten. Everything was quiet. Rent was cheap, the places weren’t great, but at least everyone kept to themselves. No large parties or disturbances. I’d done my homework well.

  The less attention you got as a demon, the better.

  Then again, I’d come out and told Diana who I was just twelve hours before. But people didn’t generally tend to believe that.

  Stepping out of the car, I checked to make sure the .45 was ready. With all that had transpired today, I couldn’t be too prepared. There was a target on my back, even if I was only lurking on the fringes of this chop-shop mess.

  As I walked up the concrete walk, toward my one-story apartment, I considered calling Diana. But it was late, and I wasn’t sure exactly how much I wanted to share. I justified it by telling myself it was for her own safety. If she was a human looking for things that went bump in the night, she’d be dead before morning if I shared everything I’d found out.

  Right now, Athena didn’t know who Diana was, far as I could tell. And I needed to keep it that way.

  “Kal!” A woman’s eager voice cut through the night. My heart fluttered slightly. Turning, I saw my next-door neighbor Nadia waving from her open window. “Something came for you today.”

  “Great,” I said, watching her as she rushed outside, down the steps. A thin layer of sweat graced her perfect caramel skin. From her attire, it was evident that Nadia had just returned from a workout. I kept my eyes on her perfect cheekbones and forced a smile. “Thanks.”

  She handed me the package. It was a plain box, no return shipping address. “It was just sitting on your steps. I was worried someone might take it, you know?”

  “Good thinking,” I said, unable to come up with something clever. Her white teeth flashed as she smiled.

  “So you’re out late,” Nadia said. “With a secret lover?” When she winked, I almost melted into the ground. This woman had no magical powers at all, but she could give Isabella a run for her money in the seduction department.

  Despite my best efforts, my eyes traced her well-toned torso down to her long legs. Her bare feet rocked back and forth against the pavement.

  I cleared my throat to get back to reality and said, “Um, no. Yes. I don’t know.”

  She laughed. “Sounds like you’re conflicted.” Then, in a conspiratorial whisper, with her full lips almost pressed against my ear, she added, “What do you think’s inside?”

  “Probably just Argos,” I said.

  “The package.”

  “Oh.” I gave a hasty glance at the boring box. To be honest, I wasn’t interested in whatever was inside. Too much on the old mind. “Nuclear launch codes, probably.”

  “It’s good not to take yourself too seriously.” She twirled a ruby necklace around her neck, wrapping the gold chain around her fingers. The polished crimson stone caught the street lamps, its well-carved facets shimmering brightly. “The key to a long life.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Without anything else to say, I began backing away. “Well, you know, I gotta get back to it
.”

  “Kal,” she called, and it was enough to stop me dead, get me to do anything she wanted, “I have a question—”

  “Can it wait?” A gravelly voice cut through the conversation, immediately killing the vibe. We both watched as a man in a black hood walked toward us, up the walk. Nadia looked nervous.

  “It’s just my, uh, friend,” I said. “Don’t worry. He’s harmless.”

  “Tell that to the werewolves I killed while riding with Atilla’s hordes,” Charon said as he tottered forward.

  Nadia arched her eyebrow and gave me a look. I shrugged and mimed a drinking motion.

  “Well, I, um, have that thing inside, so I’ll see you another time, okay, Kal?” She hurried up the stairs and slammed the door a little louder than I would’ve liked.

  When she was gone, Charon began to slow clap. “She’s pretty. Stone cold stunner. You old dog. You hitting that?”

  I walked up to him and whispered, “Let’s talk. Inside.”

  “That’s what I came for,” he said, his breath heavy with the sweet, flowery scent of ambrosia. “You haven’t been answering my calls, Kal.”

  Placing one of my arms around his shoulder, I helped him to the door. Inside, I could hear Argos yipping with excitement. Clearly the old boy hadn’t realized that our friend was coming by unannounced. Although, all things considered, Argos owed Charon as much as I did.

  Which was why we put up with his shit.

  The door popped open, and Argos did a happy dance, chasing his tail. I tossed the package into a dusty corner. He barked twice, then noticed the intoxicated Charon and shook his head.

  “Stupid dog,” Charon said, not taking kindly to being insulted by a border collie.

  When the door closed, Argos stopped panting and sat down. Then, in a calm, erudite voice, he said, “Charon, I believe we had a discussion about this before. You cannot drink ambrosia.”

  “I should’ve left you in the Underworld, you flea-bitten sack of shit.”

  “It is unhealthy,” Argos said.

  “Spare me the lecture, Socrates,” Charon said. “You’re not good at it.”