“I’ll get back to you with my answer … later.” She pointed toward the exit. “Maybe.”
I shrugged and strolled to the door, pausing on the threshold to look back. As arguing voices cut off in mid word, I saw Carson, Vivian’s grandfather, the Grand Pooh-Bah of the L.A Slayers. He’d come downstairs to join her. He was openly unarmed, as if mere weapons could never hurt him. He had steel-gray hair, a clean shave, and gray-green eyes that all but glowed with welcome, as if he weren’t fully human. A big smile stretched his face, adding to the wrinkles.
His pleasantness disturbed me. What the hell is he up to?
He gave Vivian a little push in my direction. His mellow voice followed her, “Go on. If the enemy is stupid enough to offer up free intelligence, take it, and the cash. It never hurts to know what games are being played, and what the stakes are. Oh, and make sure he gets off the property without killing anyone. I’ve been to enough funerals lately.”
With Vivian on my tail, I went out.
The bouncers caught a look at her hard-planed face, and slouched, grabbing various spots on their torso, as if I’d inflicted massive damage to their internal organs. They were quite convincing.
She asked me, “What did you do to them?”
“Beat hell out of them, then beat it back in.”
She was mad now, her eyes pale red flames. “You should have just sent for me. Picking on my people pisses me off.”
I paused to let her catch up. “Okay, next time we’ll do it your way.”
She swung back to the guards. “You guys need medical treatment?”
The one on the right pulled himself up. “Don’t worry about us. We’re tough.”
The Slayer on the left straightened a second later. He shoved his chest out in a manly fashion. “Our wounds are badges of honor, medals of valor...”
I wiped a crocodile tear from my eye. “Almost makes me want to be a Slayer, too.”
Vivian glowered at me. “There’s a height requirement.”
Vivian often reminded me of a snarling dog, the kind that only respect those that snarl back. I did, “I’ve killed things ten times my size with a rusty pen knife, so you know where you can stick your height requirement.”
She curled the fingers of one hand into a tight fist, a heartbeat away from decking me.
I smiled. “Hey, have I reminded you lately that I saved your life from that badass warlock six months ago. He was cutting you up something fierce.”
Her anger dimmed along with the red glow in her eyes. “You can stick my gratitude up your ass, Caine.”
I flashed a smirk. “Yeah, but since that would make me walk funny, I’ll pass. C’mon.”
I led the way to my car, got inside, and let the security program know I was back. The engine turned on. Vivian opened the passenger door and slid in. She slammed the door. “Were you serious about the twenty K?”
I put the Mustang in gear. “Sure I was.”
“And you don’t expect me to sleep with you as part of the deal?”
“Well, if you really want to deny yourself the greatest sexual satisfaction ever known to womankind…”
She glared with conviction. “I do.”
I hit the gas. “Fine, be deprived. You’re only hurting yourself.”
As we got to the end of the block, I felt a tingle at the back of my neck. Hidden eyes were still watching. I checked the mirrors, looking for a tail. I kept checking, making several turns to see who might turn to follow. Since I couldn’t pick out the tail, I decided that a magic cloak, maybe fey glamour, was at work.
Damn fairies, always pulling magic out of their asses.
“Someone following us?” Vivian asked.
“Yeah, but don’t bother looking. Fey.”
Her right hand settled on the knife strapped to her outer thigh. “I’ve iron for their kind.”
“Not all fey are evil.”
She snorted. “You’ve got a lot to learn.”
I made another turn. “One of us does.”
Her skin-tight, black leather pants made rubbing noises on the leather seats. Her hand stayed near the knife on the slow drive home. I couldn’t make good time through the day traffic. Too many cars. Too many people that didn’t know they were supposed to pull over and get out of my way when I wanted to go somewhere.
I think I need to hire a publicist.
Almost an hour later, I pulled up to my Malibu home, driving into the garage. Osamu came out with a very large drink in hand; the only thing I could think of—someone’s here I’m not going to be happy with. We got out of the car. I grabbed the drink and made introductions. “Osamu this is Vivian. She’ll be going to Sacramento with us. She’s dhampyr, so make sure the blinds are closed during the day. Daylight won’t kill her, but we want her to be comfortable.”
Osamu gave Vivian a small bow and a smile. “Shall I contact a butcher and stock up on fresh blood as well?”
I gave him a nod.
Vivian had braced at the mention of what she was. At Osamu’s calm acceptance, she relaxed, her brow only slightly furrowed. “It doesn’t bother you, what I am?”
Osamu backed away, opening the door to the kitchen for us. “I’m a combat butler that works for a demon clan. Dhampyr do not distress me.”
We left him in the kitchen. I took Vivian through the living room, into my office.
William and Achill were having a heated conversation, dropping growls left and right. William roared, “But it makes perfect sense. You should let me take the wolves here down to Sacramento. As the new Alpha there, I’ll have things settled in no time.”
“What I’ll have,” Achill said, “is an ever bigger mess. The Sacramento Alpha needs to be cool-headed, able to play well with others. I need a scalpel there, not a hammer.”
Vivian had stopped behind me. I turned to her as she dipped low to draw a silver combat knife from her left boot. Her right hand plucked out a Colt .45 automatic. Knowing Slayers, I suspected she used the same type of explosive rounds I did. From the blaze of hate in her eyes, I realized my office was a heartbeat away from becoming a battlefield.
“Wolves!” She spat the word like an obscenity.
SIX
“I’ll live forever because Heaven won’t
take me, and Hell’s afraid I’ll take over.”
—Caine Deathwalker
The wolves paused in their argument, swinging curious faces toward Vivian. Since she wore her vampire-Slayer longcoat and crested body armor, they saw at a glance what she was—and didn’t seem to care, going immediately back to their argument.
She clicked the safety off her Colt.
I seized her wrist, immobilizing the handgun. “While you’re a guest in my house, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t kill anyone not trying to kill you. It’s one of my rules.”
Vivian’s burning eyes welled with unshed tears. “A wolf killed...”
I clicked her safety back on. “Your mom, I know. I did my research. But it wasn’t one of these wolves, right?”
“Probably not.” She wrenched her hand free of my grasp, but didn’t start pumping anyone full of bullets. “But I get a little more peace with every shifter I kill. One day, it might be enough.”
She had a hole in her heart that could never be filled. I’d pity her, if I knew how.
From the edge of sight, I caught motion, turning my head. A swirl of black mist formed in the space between Vivian and the wolves. The darkness became a black leopard with molten gold eyes. Those eyes were on Vivian.
Anticipating an attack, the Slayer lowered her gun muzzle, sighting on Leona’s head.
The leopard sat on her haunches. Her teeth flashed white as she spoke, “There are entirely too many people staying in this house.”
I muttered, “Like anyone invited you to move in.”
Leona glared at me. “Did you say something?”
Wisely, I shook my head no.
Vivian recovered somewhat. “It talks. You’ve got a talking leopard!”
Old Man came into the room. “Doesn’t everyone?” He moved to the bar, taking a seat, watching the Slayer with naked curiosity.
Vivian’s eyes locked onto the Old Man. Identifying him as the strongest threat in the room. Her eyes widened. She used the silver knife as a pointer. “You’re Lauphram, Atlantean demon, water mage, the power behind the Shadow Throne.”
The Old Man’s face brightened with pleasure. “You’ve heard of me?”
“What the hell’s a Shadow Throne?” I asked.
“Nothing relevant to this millennium,” Lauphram said. “Someone want to make me a drink?”
I waved a hand at him, making a sort of mystic gesture. “Poof! You’re a Blue Lagoon.”
“I’ll make a pitcher of something.” The Fenris stalked away from William, heading around the far end of the bar. I think he just wanted something between him and Vivian in case she remembered she’d been about to open fire on wolves. It hadn’t escaped my attention that while he’d been arguing with William, he’d kept his body angled to Vivian to present as small a target as possible. William hadn’t bothered. Since being brought back from the dead a few months ago—as a sort of zombie wolf—he’d developed an immunity to silver. Vivian’s slugs would only have annoyed him—until he killed her, or forced me to kill him.
Whatever action William had urged hadn’t been well received. Left at loose ends, he stalked over to the bar, taking a stool where he could glare at me, and drool over Vivian. She shuddered slightly, slanting him uneasy glances, as if expecting his inner wolf to take over the human persona at any moment.
I thought he put too much confidence in her restraint; all she needed to gut him was the smallest nod from me. All I’d needed to give her that nod was a few more drinks. Speaking of which, I stepped behind the bar with Achill, needing a refill or two. I put one of my PPKs on the counter. The noise got William’s attention, turning him more to me than Vivian. He stabbed a finger my way. “I still owe you for pistol-whipping me in the face.”
“You had it coming at the time, but I’ll tell you what; you can have Vivian, if she’ll let you.”
She moved to a bar stool several seats away from William, and slanted her glower from him to me. “You can both fuck off and die.”
The Old Man and Achill laughed raucously.
William switched for the seat next to Vivian.
I grabbed my iPod from under the bar and played Limp Bizkit’s Nookie. Listening to my choice, everyone stared. I lifted an eyebrow. “What?”
No one answered, just looking away.
Rummaging for the good Jack, I found the obsidian bottle I’d lost track of. I popped the cork and sniffed. Jack and Coke. I poured some into a three-inch glass, and threw it back. Mixed perfectly. I immediately poured another, and peered into bottle, shaking it a little. As full as ever.
Old Man studied the bottle. “What exactly is that?”
I gave him a piercing stare to clue him in. “Red Moon brand, if you know what I mean.”
William leaned into Vivian, draping an arm over her shoulder. “You can’t hurt my feelings,” he said. “I love a challenge.”
My hand slid onto my weapon.
Vivian took hold of his hand, lifting it off her shoulder. She squeezed it. “Love this?”
William squealed, jerking his paw away. He wiggled his fingers experimentally. They were mangled.
I smiled. Good girl.
His wolfen healing power cut in, undoing the damage.
Achill slid a drink in front of him, a distraction.
William ignored it, his face clouding with anger. The man and his inner wolf had a definite problem handling rejection. So much for loving a challenge.
I moved opposite Vivian, sliding my PPK along on the bar. “Want to borrow my gun?”
She gave me half a smile and shook her head. “Nah, I’m good.”
I recovered my gun and holstered it, as the doorbell rang. I ignored the summons, knowing Osamu would get it. A minute later, as I slammed down another Jack and Coke, the door to my office opened. I felt a cold chill as Osamu led Izumi and Angie in. The girls smiled. Their happy looks went hard and cold as they spotted Vivian close to me.
I felt like yelling—“There’s plenty of me to go around!”—but kept the comment to myself, doubting it would help. Instead, I caught Vivian’s gaze. “Do yourself a favor, and lay off all comments on the fey.”
She looked puzzled. “Why?”
I stared past her at Izumi. “Hi, Izumi. I see you’re back from Under-the-Hill. How’s the queen mother doing?”
“Bossy as ever,” Izumi answered, but kept her eyes on the Slayer. “What’s that doing here?”
Vivian kept her gun holstered and the silver knife in her boot sheath. Her hand slid to her right thigh for the iron blade. She loosened the knife, ready to draw it at the next insult. That’s what I like about her. She doesn’t talk trash, she just takes it out—not that Izumi can’t take care of herself.
“This is Vivian,” I said. “She’s going to Sacramento to help us broker peace, and find the dream stone.”
Angie crowded in between William and Vivian. She gave Vivian a hard once over, frowning. “You’re not going to get far or keep a low profile with her dressed as a Slayer. You’re going to be moving among the preternatural elite. You ought to dress for success.”
Vivian returned the raking stare, taking in Angie’s ass-hugging shorts, fuck-me heels, and tight tee. “I’m being given fashion advice from Street-Walking Barbie?”
I leaped to Angie’s defense before her wolf temper flared. “This is her down time. When Angie argues in front of a jury, she’s prim, proper, and hot as hell.”
“That a fact?” Vivian said. “You’re a lawyer and a wolf. That makes you a predator twice over, doesn’t it?”
Angie’s eyes narrowed to glinting yellow slits. “You got a problem with me?”
“A rogue wolf killed her mother,” I said.
“Your mother,” Izumi’s tone was one of muffled distress.
“Your mom!” Angie’s words sank in volume, dragged down by sadness.
A dead, oppressive silence set in.
I hate dead, oppressive silences. “Hey girls, want to do me a favor and take Vivian shopping? I’ll loan you a credit card. Treat it kindly”
“Credit card!” Angie’s eyes widened in orgasmic pleasure that made her forget all about the argument with Vivian. “If you want my help, I need a new outfit too.”
“I know I’m going to regret this.” I pulled out my ultra-black credit card with platinum trim—accepted around the world, in various hell dimensions, as well as the courts of the fey. I don’t leave Earth without it. “What do you say, Izumi?”
She grabbed the card from my hand and hurried for the door with Angie a step behind. I looked at Vivian. “Better hurry or they’ll leave without you.”
Vivian ran after them.
William watched her go. “She’s just playing hard to get. I can tell she wants me.”
The rest of us guys suddenly got interested in our drinks. We could have burst his bubble, but that wouldn’t have been half a challenge. What the hell, I’m not a nice guy. “She’d do Bigfoot before you.”
“One of these days, Caine…”
“I’m sorry, did I say that out loud?”
William turned wolf-yellow eyes my way. “Hey, what gives you the right to be giving orders to Angie anyway? I run the pack.”
The question got Achill’s attention. Settling at the end of the bar, he studied us.
I held a finger up for William to see. “One, I asked her. I didn’t order.” I held up another finger, curving them so I could poke him in the eyes if he lunged. “And two, fuck you.”
William jerked, attempting to climb the bar and rip out my throat. My protective tat warmed and a partial barrier formed between us, smacking him back onto his stool. By then, I had my PPK in hand, the barrel pointed at his face.
My cold, self-indulgent smile is the la
st thing some people see on Earth. It’s not pretty. I gave that smile to William. And I didn’t forget the other threat in the room. With peripheral vision, I caught a yellow flash as Achill’s eyes ignited. I shifted to see him better without losing track of William. Achill’s face showed cold intensity, but not true anger. I hadn’t hurt one of his wolves—yet.
The air grew damp with a sea salt smell. Magic rolled over us in thick, crushing waves, then withdrew like a tide. Old Man’s magic, nearly slipping the chain, sent a warning. He said, “Caine, put the gun down. If you kill the wolves, who am I going to play chess with? You? You always kick the board over when I’m about to win.”
I put the gun down. “Fine, I’ll play nice. By the way, where are Kimberly and her pet monkey?”
Old Man’s brow furrowed. “She retired to her room, said something about getting some dream time in so she could report to her Mistress. The fey is probably watching over her while she sleeps.”
I took the obsidian bottle and backed up to the wine cellar elevator. “Fine. I’m going down to work on my zombie apocalypse suit.”
Achill’s dark eyes glinted. His smile came out from hiding. “Really? You got one of those too? Re-enforced poly-carbon micro fibers?”
“A serious warrior would use nothing less.” I pushed the call button and waited for him to come around the bar and join me. The doors opened and we got on. “You can look, but don’t touch.” The doors closed and we rode down.
My apocalypse suit was made of light-weight Kevlar with woven tungsten fibers. Small pieces of plating covered vital areas. The outfit had been painted matte black and had leather harnesses containing four PPKs, various grenades, a combat knife, and short swords crossed in back where they could be easily reached. I’d been soaking the armor in eldritch energy for a year now, making a sort of mystic battery out of it. As zombie apocalypse suits went, this was top of the line.
Achill was in for a hell of a surprise.
The doors clacked open. We stepped out into moderate gloom, the lamps of the armory section throwing long shadows across the basement, over the glass doors of the wine coolers. My computer monitor was on as well, though I don’t remember leaving it that way.
Green Flame Assassin (Demon Lord series, book 2) Page 5
