“So help me out here. I need a few upgrades.” I wanted claws and wings, but couldn’t take time out from the chase to get them. I thought my dragon could manage that just fine. I’d just have to swallow the pain, as usual. My hands and back began to burn. Muscles rippled, flaying off the bone. The bones of my fingers and shoulder blades felt like they melted and scraped at the same time.
The naga and I were past the chapel, moving up a little hill that hid all that lay beyond. He crested the hill and vanished. I remembered a lake was supposed to be over there. Back in the fey village, Thorn’s grandmother had said something about that. I pulled the comment from memory: “There is a darkness there that will only be defeated by a greater darkness.”
Clear as mud, I thought. “Hey, how good a swimmer are you?”
My gold-eyed dragon stared at me. I look like a water dragon to you? Water screws up my lightning attack.
“Hmm. Not good.”
My back dripped blood as bone spurs grew out of my shoulder blades. The ribbing of nascent wings formed. My hands felt on fire, fingers thickening, scales forming. Claw tips sprouted. The better to rend you with. New muscles were growing in my back. My thighs were bulking as well. Spasms slowed my pace.
I focused through the distractions, and changed my angle of approach on the hill so the naga couldn’t predict where I’d come into view. If I were him, I’d pause, hunkered out of sight, and go for a poison wind ambush when I appeared.
I went over the hill in a rush, the weight of damp, accordion wings threatening my balance.
The naga hadn’t waited for me after all. He was gone. The terrain was much steeper on this side of the hill. I stared down a slope of brown, dead grass at a small weathered boathouse and peer. They huddled at the edge of a grayish lake. The water was a leaden mirror, smooth, untroubled. Either that water had already embraced the naga, hiding him, or the creature was hiding at the boathouse, inside it, or behind the structure.
Too many choices.
I half slid, half ran down the hill. The wind gathered in my wings, adding lift to my steps. With years of instinct under my belt, I felt the atmosphere, seeking an aura full of killing intent. I didn’t sense the eyes of a predator on me. I didn’t hear anything. His scent guided me on. Every sense strained as I approached the boathouse. The walls were leprous with gray wood showing through old paint that might have once been bright red but now looked like watered-down blood. There was a five-foot deck leading to a padlocked door. The side windows were dark, square eyes. I smelled snake, but the scent wasn’t close. There was no indication of the building having been violated.
I leaped. My inner dragon fluttered the wings to assist me. The new skin on their expanse hit my nervous system with readings on air flow, feeding off of vibrations I couldn’t hear. Just past the peak of the little roof, not quite looking over its far edge, I paused. Feeling with my boot soles, I found only stillness from the building under me.
Where are you? Come out, come out. Don’t you want to play?
Crack!!!
Ah, the sound of a neck being broken all over again.
It came from the pier, or more precisely, from underneath. I think the naga had used a pier support to break his neck again. I guessed him to be mostly submerged with his head and shoulders surfacing just under the deck. He’d now be realigning his neck bones, and holding his head while he fled deeper into the lake. He’d lose himself in the water, knowing that by the time I found him, he’d be back to full functionality. My vision would be clouded by water that he could poison.
A fight in his element—where he might even now be fully changing into snake form—seemed a stupid thing to do. Still, I was tempted.
I settled for spewing lightning, letting it explode the pier, sweeping along its length. The water would dissipate the charge, but he’d feel some of it and get my message, my challenge. We both knew that his running meant I was the biggest threat, the top of the food chain.
Stick that in your craw and chew on it.
In the aftermath of my blast, my mouth felt hot and tingly. My hair stiffened with static, bristling.
My inner dragon complained: You’re wasting my power. Can’t you just beat your chest, or something?
“Fuck you.”
If that’s even possible, would it count as incest or masturbation?
I sighed. “If only I could hold an intelligent conversation with myself.”
I needed to go back and check up on my people, but I wasn’t ready to give up my physical improvements just yet. Nor did I want to freak out the reality stars. I sent a little raw magic along my skin, warming the Demon Wings tattoo just above my wings. Pain roared in like a freight train. It felt like my new wings were being crumpled and shredded at the same time, though they took no actual damage. The phantom sensations faded a moment later; the payment made for the spell I’d activated.
No longer visible, I delayed my departure, staring at the water. It still bounced in reaction to my lightning blast, its peace as broken as the pier itself. I waited and watched.
My gaze caught on a skull top that broke the surface well out from the bank. Green-star eyes emerged, the rest of the naga’s face hidden. He scanned for me, not having seen where my lightning attack came from.
Look all you like, it won’t help.
I launched into the air, beating my wings heavily for lift. Shadow magic pooled in my right hand. I used dragon strength to hurl a ball of darkness, aiming for a point right between his eyes. As the ball streaked closer, it detonated, becoming a spray of shadow daggers.
The naga’s instincts seemed as honed as mine; he ducked under, sinking like a stone.
My knives chased after him, vanishing into the lake, but I doubted I’d hit anything but water. As the shadow magic dissipated, I skimmed the lake and climbing once more, adding a spiral on the uptake as I climbed the sky once more. Pumping wings, I fought higher, turned, and set course for the haunted school.
Next time, snake-man, you won’t escape so easily.
My inner dragon yawned at the promise I made. His eyes dimmed as he held off sleep. Next time, he won’t let you see him coming. He’s not the type to overestimate an opponent twice.
“Then maybe we should learn to breath underwater.”
Seriously?
I shrugged. “How hard can it be?”
Shouldn’t there be a limit on how bad we are to our self?
“What do you mean, bad? There’s nothing I love more than me. I just hate letting common sense get in the way of vengeance.”
Can’t be helped.
“Maybe.”
I remember reading once that human lungs can extract oxygen from water. What makes a person drown is that it is so tiring to breathe liquid at the necessary rate. With my dragon strength and hyper metabolism though, it ought to be possible. The question was how long could I keep it up, and did I really want to perfect the skill while fighting a naga?
Dragon’s yellow eyes closed to slits in the back shadows of my mind. What about a magical oxygenating system?
“I don’t have time to get more ink.”
I was back across the crest of the hill, looking down from several hundred feet up. Like a model, the school slid under me, growing larger as I went into a tight, spiral descent. The back roof’s edge didn’t have the same ornate statuary as the front. But I did find something highly interesting: the thin concrete surface had an inset area like a shallow cave, where the stone tiles supported a tarnished brass inlay a foot high. The grillwork formed a yantra, a meditative pattern used in Hindu and Buddhist rituals. These patterns employ elaborate geometry to represent god-zones, the domain of various deities.
I landed and folded my wings against my back. Staring at the fifteen by fifteen foot recess, I did some thinking. Since nagas and nagis are from India too, I felt it likely this place had something to do with them. This yantra was common, a series of squares with T-shaped gates in the sides. The stylized squares framed an inner circle. From the
re on, the yantra became distinctive with an inner knot made out of one ugly, big-assed snake with three heads. That part of the pattern seemed more Etruscan than anything else, striking chords from my studies of necropolises around the world. The bearded snake reminded me of one found on a wall in a fourth century Tomb in Pianacce at Sarteano. Adding to the Etruscan elements was an egg at the very center of the yantra, representing resurrection and regeneration.
Considering the architectural details of the haunted school, the presence of this yantra could mean everything … or nothing.
My phone vibrated. The ring tone played: “Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?” Getting the phone out of my pocket proved difficult with my transformed hands. I tore the pocket. Since my phone was out, I took a moment to capture several shots of the yantra. My phone automatically saved the images. Most phones can’t do this while an incoming call is being neglected, but mine had been specially modified for multitasking by a techno-mancer I knew.
I killed the Pussycat Dolls ring tone. “Yeah?”
“Where are you,” Izumi asked.
“The roof. Why?”
“Things quieted down and you didn’t come back. I was worried.”
Nice to hear.
There was a boom, not quite an explosion. More a wrecking ball sound. It echoed up from the front of the building.
“Spoke too soon,” Izumi said. “You may want to get down here—fast.”
“You won’t see me, but I’m on my way. Prioritize keeping Thorn safe. The honor of my clan demands it.”
“On it.” The connection broke.
I put the phone in the other front pocket, the one that wasn’t ripped, and half unfurled my wings. I leaped toward the front of the building, bounding across the roof. It wasn’t long before I reached the cherubim statues that acted like gargoyles. A last leap took me past the winged babies. My wings snapped fully open. I dropped earthward, curling through the air.
Thorn and Malevolence rode in Shiva’s truck. Teresa drove it toward the highway. They were ether running off, or just getting some distance from the threat.
Izumi stood in the front drive, raising a wall of ice between the truck and the front lawn of the building.
My dragon vision focused in on the main problem: Shiva had succeeded in taking the necklace off Holy. But the ghost had changed bodies. Shiva now wore the necklace—and had become a nagi with green tone skin. Balanced on a slithering tail, she’d crashed through the school, emerging onto the dead brown lawn.
And for some reason, a naked Holy rode the undulating nagi like a rodeo cowgirl. She was almost thrown as Shiva skidded into a pause, staring at Crusher with the monster-sized tread marks across him.
Shiva’s gaze snapped up as the truck’s roar reached her. The truck was her pride and joy, her baby. And was being stolen. I think that fact pierced her clouded mind, spurring her to urgent action. She went after her truck, heading straight for Izumi and her ice wall.
1
FIFTEEN
“Friendly fire isn’t.”
—Caine Deathwalker
I wasn’t in a good glide-path for intercepting Shiva, but I wasn’t worried for Izumi. She was a strong winter fey, with the same icy power as the Japanese snow-woman she pretended to be.
Izumi gestured.
I lost sight of the battle as I spiraled away, dropping faster, harder. A wave of cold slammed across me as I landed with a huge jolt. The lawn had become ice. It cratered and webbed into shards as I crashed to one knee, my wings half-folding like a shield over me. I straightened and stood, trying to check out the battle, but both Izumi and my bodyguards were lost in a glittering mist from which oversized ice-swords bristled.
I listened to the sound of something hard thrashing about, exploding against the hidden ice. Many of the swords fractured and hailed back into the mist.
The ice-mist thinned as electrical bursts strobed from its core. Holy was cutting loose with her storm magic. I hoped she wasn’t being too indiscriminate about where her attacks were hitting.
Now, I felt concern for Izumi.
There came a crash louder than the others. Big hunks of ice flew in all directions. Several feet of ice-wall—on both sides of the mists—fissured, then shattered with a sound like ice cubes rattling in a glass, but on a much larger scale.
Note to self: find my missing bottle of fey wine. Getting thirsty.
The mist belled like an overinflated balloon and popped into nothing. There were half a dozen spots of dead grass that were burning.
I walked forward, drawing no attention, my Demon Wings tattoo still cloaking me from perception. I found Shiva a statue incased in ice. I didn’t think it would hold her long.
Holy was shimmering with lightning burning just below her skin. A green light fanned out of her eyes. Blue-white jags crawled over her knuckles as she pounded at Izumi.
A taunting smile answered back as Izumi’s ice-formed armor blunted the blows. As damage accumulated and ice dribble to the ground, fresh ice filled the gaps in the armor, keeping Izumi safe.
Why are they fighting each other? Never mind. The main thing is to get the necklace.
I passed the fighters and went straight to the ice entombing Shiva. Several small cracks had wormed out from the core, seeking the surface. Half snake, she was even taller, her necklace out of reach, so I jumped and punched with dragon strength.
Cra-ckk!
A crater appeared in the ice over her torso. With my hand deep inside the hole, fluttering wings kept me aloft long enough to grab the fang necklace and kick away. With the necklace in my hand, I settled to the ground. I put the necklace on. I’d worn it through the night without becoming possessed. It seemed to me that the ghost was deliberately choosing females to high-jack.
I stared at Shiva. She possessed enough strength to shatter the ice prison. The reason she hadn’t was a simple matter of leverage. You need to be able to move to apply force, to build up kinetic energy. She looked like a corpse in the ice, a corpse finding life as her lower length split into twin serpents that shrank and reformed into legs again. This left enough open space around her lower body for a series of kicks, each stronger than the one before. The ice shuddered. The cracks turned into a complex webbing, whitening the ice. It shattered.
Holy screamed. I turned her way. The yellow-green ball of ghost light emerged from her. It flew past me and circled the ice floe holding Shiva.
Ghost must have jumped to Holy after Shiva got immobilized. Without the necklace, the nagi could only do a simple possession.
The green-yellow light zipped to the hole I’d made, looking for the necklace.
Too little, too late.
With my magic protection, the necklace and I were completely off her radar.
Defeated, the baby ghost flew toward the haunted school.
I turned my attention back to Shiva—and back-fisted a chunk that flew at my face. She gasped for air and fell heavily to the ground, groaning, shivering from the cold. Her flesh lost its green cast. Blue tinged lips shaped words. “That … really … sucked.”
I dropped my Demon Wings spell. “Izumi,” I called. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
I turned to see her holding Holy, keeping the petite girl from falling. The light-play under Holy’s skin was gone. No crackling electricity danced on her knuckles. No more light beamed from her eyes. Her expression showed only confusion. “What happened? How did I get outside? How did I get out here?”
It seemed we’d weathered the storm and a lull could be expected. I hid the necklace in a coat pocket. Those around me suddenly stared my way.
“Caine!” Izumi said. “What big wings you have.”
Pushing off of Izumi, Holly stood under her own power, her face turning bright pink with a flush. “This isn’t what it looks like?”
I smiled like the bastard I am. “And what does it look like?”
“She was just … I was…” Holly ran out of words.
Izumi g
lared at me. “Don’t be cruel to the hired help.”
“Sorry,” I lied. “I don’t know what came over me. Holy?”
“Y-yes?”
“Not that I mind, but aren’t you a little cold without any clothes on?”
“Without…” She looked down at herself. Her blush deepened. She gave a little shriek and ran for the building.
Shiva fought to her feet. She wobbled slightly. “Why the hell do I feel so weak?”
“You’re not a shifter with their tough metabolism, so a metamorphosis is going to take a lot out of you.”
She stared. “Say what?”
Izumi pressed into my side, sliding her arm through mine, hanging on tight. She smiled at Shiva. “You were a snake, dear. That’s why you’re naked.”
“I was a nagi?” Shiva looked down at herself. Her nudity didn’t seem to bother her any. She looked as comfortable as a werewolf, or one of my were-kitties. Then sudden alarm lifted her brows, widening her eyes. “My truck! Where’s my baby?”
My gaze slid over her, drinking in her well-defined muscles and sensual curves. I noticed that she shaved a lot more than pits and legs.
Izumi glared at me. “I know you’re going to look, but if I catch you touching—”
I looked at her, meeting her black-mirror stare. “What? Suddenly there’s a limit on my harem? You know I have an obligation to hot women everywhere. It’s a sacred duty. Honest.”
“Your balls aren’t going to work too well encased in ice.”
“So you’re telling me not to get caught?”
“I’m telling you to respect my position as your queen. Pretend faithfulness and keep the courtesans out of public view.”
“Courtesans?” Shiva said.
Izumi smiled sweetly at her. “Another word for whore, or do you prefer slut?”
Shiva’s eyes narrowed. “I prefer to beat the living crap outta you, bitch.”
“Bitch?” The air around Izumi dropped twenty degrees. Her breath became a white fog.
Demon Lord 6: Garnet Tongue Goddess Page 11
