Blood Frost (The Half-Demon Rogue Trilogy Book 2)

by D. N. Erikson

“Easy, now,” I said. “Wouldn’t want to redecorate the parking lot.”

  “That would be regrettable indeed, Kalos.” Instead of a switchblade or a magical amulet, the man’s hand reappeared clutching a business card. “Opportunities of this magnitude don’t come around often.”

  I accepted the card with suspicion.

  “Sam Reynolds. Artifacts of the Essential LLC. Collector and dealer.” I raised an eyebrow before letting the card slip through my fingers and drift into the desert dust. “The hell am I supposed to make of this?”

  “We can help each other,” Reynolds said, his yellow eyes encouraging me to consider what such a partnership might entail.

  It came to me after a second. The Essential. Essence. This guy collected magical artifacts and trinkets. I’d come across a treasure hunter or two. Others called themselves merchants, or aficionados—rarely were these guys up to any good. At best, they were willing to deal objects of untold power to the highest bidder—consequences be damned—and at worst…well, I didn’t want to consider that.

  “Not interested.” I slammed the trailer door in his face. Retreating into the cozy interior, I shook my head. This was what happened when you got sentimental. If I stuck around any longer, the next person to show up on my doorstep would be Detective Scott.

  Reynolds called from outside, his voice cutting through the thin metal siding. “Your problems can just disappear, Kalos. The cops don’t look for innocent men.”

  Snoopy Miranda had to be loving this.

  “I’ll shoot your ass if you don’t leave,” I yelled from the bedroom as I searched for the keys. Hunkering down with the Journal of Annihilation hadn’t been conducive to keeping the place organized. Or maintaining a healthy lifestyle. My stomach growled to protest my current diet of whiskey and tortilla chips.

  Even better, I had learned absolutely nothing, despite studying the damn thing for hundreds of hours. Quite the effort for someone who hated reading. The mysterious fifth artifact could materialize at any moment, what with the ongoing chaos threatening to expose the supernatural. Athena the Goddess Killer had unleashed enough supply of her drug to keep people high as hell for a while, even though she’d been transmuted into essence.

  “I’m afraid shooting me would be unwise,” Reynolds said with an icy cool.

  “And why’s that?”

  “I thought the police might expedite matters.”

  I stood up so damn fast that I hit my head on the overhead compartment. Cursing and kicking at the empty bottles on the ground, I made my way back to the front. After I flung the door open so hard it cracked off the hinges, I rushed down the stairs.

  By now, more than just Miranda had come to see what all the commotion was about. Nothing like a little community bonding. I had to admit, this cesspool of humanity almost made me long for the feudal fiefdoms of medieval Britain.

  A hush passed over the crowd as I thrust the .45 right up to Sam Reynolds’ heart. The big guy didn’t flinch, just stood there like he was waiting in line for groceries. Sirens wailed in the distance.

  His eyes were now hidden behind a pair of expensive shades, so maybe he was pissing himself on the inside. Still, not quite the response I’d hoped for.

  “What’s one more snitch to the tally?” I said, not quite feeling the vehemence necessary to kill a man in cold blood. That would have been off code.

  I had three rules, really.

  Don’t screw over anyone who didn’t deserve it.

  Always complete the job I was paid to do.

  And never make promises I couldn’t keep.

  Talk was cheaper than bogus diamonds and worth even less. If I didn’t abide by my code, then who would I be? I’d seen how living like a remorseless Epicurean turned out. It would alter my being, just as Marrack had dragged Isabella down into the pits of evil.

  Reynolds was a jackass and probably a charlatan, but the verdict was out on whether he deserved to be buried in the desert. And if I went to jail for murder, then I would never be able to help Nadia Santos find out who killed her mother.

  Not that she was speaking to me, after I lost her mother’s priceless magical necklace.

  But still.

  Principles.

  And hell, maybe we could help each other. Although I’m sure his assistance came with leaden strings.

  “I heard you have a code,” Reynolds said, not moving at all. “It would be rather out of character for you to cut me down, don’t you think?”

  This guy knew an awful lot about me. Which was concerning—but my alternatives weren’t looking much better.

  “Yeah, but it would feel pretty damn good.” My eyes grew hot, flashing with anger at how this prick had come and disturbed everything. Shotgun partnerships weren’t really my thing.

  “Your life returns with one phone call, Kalos.”

  “And you go away if I move my finger another quarter inch.” The cool steel pressed against my skin. It wouldn’t be hard. A little squeeze, a massive kickback. No more Sam Reynolds. The world could do without this “collector.”

  But his offer of freedom intrigued me, and despite the strings, his get-out-of-jail-free card didn’t sound like bullshit. I’d been around long enough to recognize snake oil. And Sam Reynolds could deliver the goods, even if his motives were suspect.

  Of course, I’d be a liar if I didn’t mention that the situation didn’t play heavily on my mind. The cops were now kicking up dust with their Crown Vics just thirty yards away. Jails were more pleasant in the twenty-first century than the first, but that was like saying a stick shoved up your ass was preferable to a sword.

  A loudspeaker blared from the lead car. “Drop your weapon,” an amplified voice commanded. “You are surrounded.”

  Still not entirely sold on Reynolds’ deal, I briefly considered blowing the entire joint with a little demon magic.

  But that would’ve been petty.

  “Tell me what I gotta do for you,” I said, ignoring the cops. They weren’t gonna open fire with all these civilians around.

  “It’s simple, Kalos,” Reynolds responded with the slightest grin. “You recover a certain magical item for me, and I remove the inconvenience of the police from your life.”

  “What item we talking about?”

  “The Talon of Frost.”

  “Never heard of it,” I said, glancing over at the police officers lining up behind the hoods of their cruisers. Lots of weapons drawn. Hopefully no one sneezed.

  “Few have,” Reynolds said. “It vanished during the Ice Age.”

  “Fascinating.” The history lessons would excite Argos. I hadn’t seen the hyperactive, erudite border collie in two months. Hopefully he still liked reading. “And my fee?”

  “50% of the magical item’s essence and $250 per day, as I understand it.” He nodded, his bare head gleaming in the fierce sun. “I read something like that in an airport paperback one time. I’m a fan of the classics, too.”

  “I bet you are.”

  “I’ll pay your full fee,” Reynolds said with an easy nod. “A bargain, the way I see it.”

  I dropped the .45 and extended my hand. We shook on it. Then the cops closed in and tackled me. Hovering above, Reynolds said, “Winter approaches, Kalos. You made the right call.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I shot back while being led roughly to a nearby cruiser. “Lock up, would you?”

  He gave me a wink, and shut the door to the trailer.

  As I entered the cruiser, I felt the slightest chill pass through the car’s backseat.

  “Some AC you got in this rig,” I said to the arresting officer. My arm hairs stood on end.

  The sergeant shot me a quizzical look in the rearview. “AC is busted, man. Has been for years.”

  The sweltering heat descended on me like an unwelcome blanket as we pulled away. But I wasn’t
focused on the uncomfortable environment.

  Instead, I watched a single snowflake drift down from the summer sky and melt on the front windshield.

  Maybe winter had come early.

  2

  I was extradited to Inonda after a brief stay at the local precinct. The winding journey home took about two hours—I might have been an idiot for staying in Texas, but I hadn’t been a complete moron and camped right next door to Lux’s rubble. Then again, my mug had been plastered across every storefront, telephone pole and windshield around Inonda.

  A couple yellowed wanted posters fluttered across the lot as I was led toward the Inonda Precinct. Just as my two police chaperones were about to push me through the double glass doors, a woman in a power suit strode up the sidewalk, heels clicking aggressively.

  My first thought was that Isabella Kronos had come to finish me off. But then I actually took a look at the woman’s striking face. Black hair, cut into a stylish shoulder-length style, a sleek figure and angular features. Her flawless complexion was tanned olive by the Texas sun. Sharp brown eyes surveyed the scene like an apex predator.

  “I am Mr. Aeon’s attorney,” the woman said. “He is to be released on bail into my custody immediately.”

  The two officers glanced at each other. They wanted to get back home before dinner got too cold. Dealing with another complication wasn’t high on their to-do list.

  “Um, ma’am,” the lead officer, a kind of fat guy by the name of Mitch began, “we have orders to—”

  “Your orders have changed. And Supervisor Jenkins wouldn’t be pleased if his charity golf tournament next month went underfunded.” Her short manicured nails tapped on her phone’s screen. With razor-sharp sweetness, she added, “I could call him if you’d like.”

  “That’s, uh, we’ll talk with the boys from Inonda and get this sorted out.” Mitch swallowed hard, offering no rebuttal as he nodded to his silent partner. The second guy sauntered into the precinct and started a conversation with the receptionist at the front desk.

  Mitch and I stayed put in the sticky heat as I tried to size this woman up. Friend or foe? She had to be a favor from Sam Reynolds. But allies like her could turn on you quick if the wind blew the wrong way.

  The approaching night remained tranquil until Detective Scott hurried into the waiting area. After a frenzied conversation with the receptionist and other officer, he rushed outside, like a bee to honey.

  His short, broad chest was puffed out in victory, but his beady eyes looked slightly rattled. Nonetheless, Scott wasn’t one to accept the inevitable, no matter how bleak things looked.

  “And I thought I was gonna miss your big arrival, Aeon.” Scott nodded at the two other officers, ignoring my high-priced attorney nearby. “You’re not weaseling out of this one, you bastard.”

  Mitch exchanged another look with his partner, who shrugged. Neither had the heart to piss on Scott’s parade. But as lead dog, Mitch had to break the bad news.

  “The lawyer says you gotta cut him loose,” Mitch said.

  “Bullshit,” Scott said, glancing at my lawyer. The woman returned fire by looking right through him, as if he was an inconvenient piece of flotsam in the way of her unstoppable steamboat. “You the attorney?”

  “I assume this gentleman explained the situation,” she said, not bothering to introduce herself. “Mr. Aeon is to be freed at once, into my custody. The appropriate digital paperwork has already been filed with your receptionist.”

  “Like hell he is. You seen what this asshole did?” He glared at me, looking ready to put one right in my brain pan, consequences be damned.

  “This asshole is getting out.” I held up my cuffed hands and smiled. “Hope you have the keys, Officer.”

  “Detective.” Scott blinked and then laughed, bitter and low. “You still think this is a joke, Aeon. Just like last time.”

  “I got out last time, too.”

  “Because your associate knocked down the fuckin’ precinct wall,” he said, veins bulging out of his thick, short neck. “Just another felony to add to the tally.”

  “Unlawful imprisonment,” I said. “Ask my lawyer.”

  “She don’t have anything that’s gonna save you from this shitstorm, Aeon. Assault with a deadly weapon of a law enforcement officer. Fleeing police custody. And for whatever goddamn voodoo you used on me, we’re gonna add another statute to the book just to make sure your ass stays in jail forever.”

  His lips curled up in hatred. But there was a little fear there, too—of what exactly I was.

  Detective Scott’s broad chest deflated like a popped balloon when my new counsel finally stepped between us with her arms crossed. His gaze bounced between her and my cuffs, as if he couldn’t believe the scene was actually unfolding.

  “I hope you’re good, lady,” Scott said without much bravado, choking on half the words as he shrunk back from the formidable woman. “Where he’s going, you’ll need to be the best lawyer in the state.”

  “Would that be home, Detective Scott?” My attorney crowded into his personal space, her nose almost touching his. It was like a hawk dive-bombing a helpless field mouse at the last second. “Because your police department’s gross ineptitude in handling this case have been truly staggering.”

  “Look, lady, I don’t know who you are—”

  “Tina Chen,” she said, not bothering to provide a card. “And if you don’t stop this shameful stalling at once, I will have your badge and shut this pathetic excuse for a police department down for a violation of my client’s rights.”

  “He’s dangerous,” Scott said, mumbling at the ground.

  “Mr. Aeon only acted in response to your excessive force and harassment tactics. After review, the charges against Mr. Aeon will no doubt be dropped, seeing as how you have egregiously and repeatedly violated his constitutional rights.”

  Jesus. This woman was scary—and I was a demon. Scott had to be pissing his pants.

  “Bullshit,” Scott said, although it lacked conviction. “I gotta check with the desk again on this.”

  “Check all you want, Detective,” Tina said, tapping her forearm. “But make it quick. Your job hangs in the balance.”

  Detective Scott disappeared inside the glass doors. No one spoke, for fear of unleashing the kraken. He returned less than a minute later with a hangdog look that gave me immense personal satisfaction.

  “He’s free to go. But don’t leave town. Charges are still pending,” Scott said in a tone like I’d just shot his favorite pet.

  “What about my personal effects?” Somewhere in the precinct was my Remkah Talisman, a vial of Isabella Kronos’ blood, blade, cell phone and, most importantly, Nadia’s mother’s magical amulet, the Carmine Chain. Nadia hadn’t spoken to me since I’d sent word—through Gunnar—that the necklace was, indeed, still police evidence.

  “They’re evidence in an ongoing investigation,” Scott said, pissing on my hope for a quick resolution. “They stay here while the lab checks them out.”

  “There’s nothing in—” I felt a slight tug at the back of my t-shirt. Tina giving me the signal to shut up. I complied and bit my tongue.

  “Mr. Aeon and I both appreciate your cooperation,” Tina said, then turned her attention toward me for the first time. It was like suddenly being placed under the glare of large theatre spotlights. My heart rate spiked considerably. “Mr. Aeon, if you would follow me.”

  I managed a nod. The day had been such a whirlwind of activity that I didn’t even have the presence of mind to give Detective Scott a parting barb. I traipsed along behind my lawyer, who stopped in front of a Porsche convertible with the top up. A good move, considering the heat and dust.

  “Mr. Reynolds sends his regards.” Tina offered me the keys. “It’s not often I play delivery girl, so you’ve received a rare treat indeed.”

  I stared at the s
ports car for a moment. “I said $250 a day.”

  “Consider tonight a sign of good faith from Mr. Reynolds. One he expects that your code will encourage you to repay in kind.”

  I looked at the six-figure automobile before taking the keys. “He really wants this Talon of Frost, doesn’t he?”

  “I am not involved in his business dealings.” Tina stood with her arms crossed as I climbed inside. Her gaze was averted, staring out at the endless flat horizon, like something was bothering her. Maybe the conversation was boring.

  I rolled down the window. “Anything you can tell me about him?”

  “What he wants, he usually gets.”

  There was an awkward pause as I started the engine and began to pull away. That lethal gaze turned toward the car. I slammed on the brakes, a screech erupting from the new tires.

  “I don’t suppose it would be a sign of good faith to leave you here.”

  “No, Mr. Aeon,” Tina Chen said, her killer heels clicking across the pitted asphalt. “I do not suppose it would be.”

  She climbed into the passenger seat, and then, all signs of good faith on the table, I roared out of the precinct’s lot to take my shiny new lawyer home.

  3

  Our trip was largely a wordless one, although—surprise, surprise—Tina Chen, attorney extraordinaire, had impeccable taste in music. Not that she asked my permission to play DJ. But when someone blasts a little Allman Brothers through the arid night sky, it’s hard to complain and tell ’em to shut it off.

  It was midnight before I made it back to Inonda. Apparently high-priced lawyers need to live in posh mansions in the Austin suburbs. And, for some inexplicable reason, there was late-night traffic.

  I cut the convertible’s purring engine in my apartment complex’s parking lot. Leaning back into the leather bucket seat, I reflected on the current situation. Here I was, returning home after two months—with strangely mixed feelings.

  The elm trees in the nearby forest rustled as a light breeze passed through. That’s what I needed—the preternatural cool of the druids. Too bad demons were the antithesis of the tree-hugging sort.