Incubus Kingpin (Rise of an Incubus Overlord Book 3)

by Jack Porter

  But none of that mattered. I was looking into the eyes of a true killer, and knew it wanted me dead for the crime of darkening its master’s doorway.

  I had to admit, a part of me admired the beast. I could see it sitting in the passenger seat of my car while I blasted along a freeway, the music cranked up, and the girls in the back. Not a bad little fantasy, but I’d first have to teach the animal who was boss.

  So I smiled at the monster through the glass. “There’s a good little doggy,” I said, as patronizingly as possible. “Why don’t you go and get your master, there’s a good boy. Stop that growling, and see if she wants to invite me in.”

  If I thought that might calm the dog down, I was mistaken. The Wolfhound started pacing in front of the window, its head low, saliva dripping from its maw, its dark, satanic looking eyes focused on me. The growl seemed to be continuous, as if it didn’t have to pause for a breath, and I wondered at the volume it must have, given how thick the glass doors seemed to be.

  “Aww, who’s a good little fellow?” I asked. “Can you do any tricks? Roll over? Stand to attention? Stop fucking growling, perhaps?” I said, allowing a growl of my own into the last.

  The Wolfhound seemed to find my suggestions offensive. It did stop growling, but only so that it could bark. Then it resumed its growling as if it had a never-ending supply of the noise.

  I decided that I didn’t much care either way, and stood back from the glass just a little so I could more easily ignore it. The dog kept growling, and even clawed at the glass, and while I was pretty sure it couldn’t get to me where I was, that wasn’t the real issue.

  The real issue was that if Bianca Gambetti was in the penthouse at all, she couldn’t help but know that something was going on. She couldn’t help but–

  Just as the thought entered my mind, the crime boss herself appeared from somewhere within the depths of the mansion. At first, she focused on the dog, barking a command that came across muffled through the glass.

  The Wolfhound shot her a glance, acknowledging its mistress, but then kept growling at the window. Bianca Gambetti came closer, and for the first time, I saw her clearly.

  An older woman was how Rachel had described her, nearing seventy, but that description didn’t come close to capturing who Bianca Gambetti truly was.

  Formidable was an understatement. She was tall, and carried an air of command about her that would have been noticeable in any crowd. She was dressed in a satin bathrobe, and if the years had added a little weight to the frame, it wasn’t much, and she still looked fit and strong.

  Her hair was pulled back in a practical, severe manner. She had a flat lump of a face, and a neutral expression that was dragged down on one side by a burn scar that covered much of that side.

  The burn gave her a harshness, a severity that matched her hairstyle and leached into the eyes, which were cold, hard nuggets of coal.

  There was a strength to her that seemed to defy her age, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the result of her association with a demonic entity.

  For no more than a second, she looked out through the glass, but I figured she couldn’t see much because of the light. Without a hint of hesitation, she moved to the controls to one side, and suddenly, the balcony was lit up just as brightly as inside the mansion. I caught the faintest moment of shock on her face when she saw me.

  So I gave her my best grin and waved at her through the glass.

  She was not amused. Yet she didn’t ask who I was or how I came to be there. Instead, she gave a slow nod.

  “Simon Kingman,” she said clearly enough that I could hear her through the glass. “I wondered if you’d try a stunt like this.”

  Then she stared at me, as if daring me to say something.

  I continued to grin. That she knew who I was and had even predicted I might show up–if it wasn’t simply her attempt to put me off balance–didn’t change a thing.

  “Well, turns out you were right,” I said nicely. “I did try a stunt like this. So, are you going to let me in? Or would you prefer that we continue to shout at each other through the glass?”

  She considered me for a full ten seconds without blinking. Then the unburnt corner of the mouth quirked up just a little, and she turned to the Wolfhound. She barked an order, and the response was immediate. The dog stopped growling and came to heel like a puppy fresh from obedience school.

  Bianca Gambetti toggled another control on the wall and the glass doors slid open.

  “Well, come in, then,” she said. “But I warn you. If you are here to kill me, that’s not going to work out.”

  Given that she knew who I was and wasn’t particularly surprised to see me, I took her words seriously.

  “Azrael?” I silently asked.

  “She has the stench of divinity on her,” my guardian demon confirmed.

  I nodded and crossed into the entrance way, acknowledging as I did that the stories were correct. This was a formidable woman, and I would need to play my cards right if I was to get the result that I came for.

  I paused just inside, and Bianca Gambetti looked me up and down.

  “So, Mr. Kingman,” she said, pronouncing my name almost like a curse. “Why are you here?”

  “I thought you might like to offer me a drink,” I said, still grinning.

  18

  I followed her through the entryway to a cozy, smaller room off to one side. In a normal house, the room would have been a comfortable living room, but this penthouse mansion put Megadeath’s place to shame, and not even Dario’s home could really compare. So instead, it was a drawing room, complete with fine furniture and open fireplace which I was sure would make the room toasty and warm in the winter, and a liquor cabinet on the far side.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” Bianca Gambetti said over her shoulder, the perfect hostess. “You drink whiskey, right?” she added as she went to the liquor cabinet.

  The shiver of fear that had begun when her dog was growling at me had not dissipated. Instead, it drew tendrils that reached out and wrapped their cold fingers around all my vital organs.

  If Bianca Gambetti–or that monstrous dog of hers–noticed my unease, neither of them mentioned it, and by the time she finished making my drink, I was pretty sure I’d wiped all evidence of it away from my expression. I smiled at her as she handed me my drink and clinked her glass against mine. We both took a sip, and Bianca took a seat next to mine, positioning herself casually sideways so she could study me without straining.

  But she didn’t say anything. Just sat there, assessing, and I couldn’t help but wonder at her status.

  “In the high eighties,” Azrael supplied, although I didn’t understand how he knew. Had Sandy or Rachel found out, and Azrael plucked the information from their succubus selves?

  “Illegal, of course,” the incubus continued. “In the high fifties on the legal side of the ledger. For her to rise any higher, she would need to expand the Syndicate beyond the borders of El Diablo.”

  I savored another sip of my drink and thought it more than likely that Bianca might have plans to do exactly that.

  She seemed more than content to sit in silence, but that wouldn’t bring me any closer to accomplishing my goal. So, I took it upon myself to break the silence.

  Azrael’s lessons came back to me from when I was trying to pick up random woman at sleazy bars. When my only hope of getting laid was to use the numbers approach.

  “Open with a compliment,” he’d said.

  Ordinarily good advice, and there was much I could have said. Bianca had a beautiful house and had accomplished much in her life. I could even have said something about the Wolfhound, if I want to keep it more neutral. But I figured she would see through that in an instant.

  So I tried something a little more direct. “You’re not surprised by my presence,” I said. “So how about you tell me why you think I’m here.”

  Once again, I thought I caught the tiniest hint of a smile on one side of the fa
ce.

  Score one to me. But I was no longer seeing this as a simple exercise, of moving from point A to point B. Seducing Bianca Gambetti, if it was possible at all, was more like working my way through a maze.

  With landmines every few paces.

  “Why you are here,” she said, giving each word a full measure of respect. “Let me see. A few weeks ago, you were nothing. Short, ugly, with no characteristics that could lead to any real success, save one—a willingness to do what was needed. And now you sit next to me, as fine a specimen of your gender as it’s possible to become, with all sorts of capabilities simmering just below the surface.”

  Her expression became vaguely sardonic. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you have found your escalator to the top,” she continued. “What is your status now, somewhere in the fifties, illegal? A bit less on the legal side?” she nodded to herself, not needing my agreement.

  She took a sip of her own drink, then continued. “That you are still free to act even after the BDA sought your…” she chewed over the word, “neutralization speaks highly of what you have been able to achieve. Which means you have a certain amount of cunning to your nature that perhaps your file doesn’t give you enough credit for.”

  I raised an eyebrow, interested in what she was saying. Once again, this was someone in the Gambetti Syndicate who had seen my file. Perhaps she had even commissioned its creation. In any event, it would be interesting to get my hands on it, just to see what was there.

  “Given this, and the fact that you are here in my drawing room sharing a drink with me, I have to assume that you have figured out how it all works. Or at least part of it. You have a target on your back, and those going for you are too strong for you to face. So you’re looking for a way to remove that target completely.”

  Bianca was sharp. She had it exactly right.

  “And?” I asked her. “How do you think I am going to do that?”

  Another small smile. Perhaps she approved of my assumption that I could do it. Or perhaps she was laughing at my arrogance.

  “You are seeking to join the…” Again, she measured the words, but this time, it didn’t seem like she was choosing the right one so much as avoiding saying something she might regret. “Establishment,” she finished. “Of which, you rightly believe, the Gambetti Syndicate is a part.”

  Again, I nodded. Again, she was exactly correct. I took another small sip of my drink, marveling at the way it rolled across my tongue. I had no clue what type of whiskey she had given me, but it was a thousand times better than Chad’s had been. And probably many, many times the price.

  “Will it work?” I asked her. “If I get you on my side, I mean. If I become part of the establishment. Will the BDA stop coming after me?”

  The formidable woman nodded. “It will work,” she said. “If you can do it.”

  At that point, I allowed myself a broad, confident grin. “And can I?” I asked.

  It was Bianca’s turn to smile, although she was careful to keep the expression to the un-scarred side of the face. Perhaps the scarred part was brittle. Perhaps it pained her to shift her expression.

  I wondered then at the power of her demonic servant. If I got such an injury, I was pretty sure Azrael could help me heal it, or could in some way or other repair the damage directly. Probably all it would take would be a few points into healing or skin elasticity or some such, and it would be done.

  “You cannot force me to sign the Syndicate over to you,” she said flatly. “So if that’s what you have in mind, then this conversation is at an end.” Then she turned her head to a slight angle, as if that would help her understand more who I was.

  “But I don’t think that’s is what you intend,” she said. “Nor do I think you are here to persuade me. Not exactly.” This time, her grin took on a knowing look. “You have a demon within you. It is powerful, and yet, the information I have at hand is that your demon is not as powerful as it could be. But there are different kinds of power, and that of your demon is well known. He is an incubus,” she said flatly. It wasn’t a question. Her smile became a smirk, and she raised one eyebrow, as if in imitation to my own earlier expression.

  “Did you really come all this way to just to seduce little old me?” she asked, and I could tell she was teasing.

  I looked her dead in the eye and returned her smirk with one of my own. “What if I did?” I challenged her.

  To my surprise, Bianca burst out laughing. It was the laugh of a much younger woman, high and clear, almost like music. Yet she wasn’t laughing at me, not exactly. She was laughing at the sheer joy that the world offered her.

  It was a surprising insight into her character. Despite all the things she had done, all the power at her command, she was essentially unbroken. Inside the formidable exterior, the heart of who she had been perhaps forty or fifty years ago still beat as strongly as ever.

  I already liked the old woman and allowed myself to share some of that joy. But I didn’t forget I was there with a purpose.

  “Well?” I asked after much of her laughter had faded.

  “If only I was a couple of decades younger,” she said.

  I didn’t say anything, but just waited.

  And then Bianca Gambetti shook her head.

  “And if only I was a good deal more naïve. But the answer has to be no. As charming as you are, as pretty to look at, and as fine as I’m sure the experience would be, I will not become one of your harem. I will not offer my soul to that demon within you, and become your puppet as dear Dario had done, may his soul rest in peace.”

  The way she said the last told me very clearly that she’d played an active role in Dario’s death. All at once, the burgeoning affection I felt for this woman evaporated like mist on a sunny day. I saw into the heart of this monster before me, and the stories Sandy had told came crashing back to me.

  The cold fist of anger and hate growing in my stomach flexed its muscle, and I felt my expression darken.

  “Is there no way I can change your mind?” I asked, and my tone was nowhere as near as light as it should have been.

  Bianca caught the threat in my voice and laughed once again. “I do believe I have awoken the beast,” she said, completely at ease with the danger before her.

  She took the time to take one more sip of her drink before setting it on the low table next to her. Then she placed her elbows on the arm of the seat, made a bridge with her hands, and rested her chin on top of it so she could look at me closely. “As much as I admire your determination, sadly, there is not,” she said.

  Despite everything, I was disappointed. I felt Azrael stretch in my mind, as if he was preparing for me to change into the form that best reflected him. But I held back, at least for the moment. This drama had not played itself through to the end.

  Not yet, anyway.

  “So now, where does that leave us?” I asked, loading my voice with malice.

  Bianca’s expression didn’t change. “Now, sadly, your visit is at an end. We have each made our perspectives clear, and there is no common ground. What might happen hereafter, only the fates can know, but for now, you are not welcome in my house anymore. So, either you will leave the same way you arrived, or you will be removed. The choice is yours. Although quite frankly, I am hoping for the latter. I want to see what will happen.”

  She said it simply, with no aggression in her voice, but I believed every word. And perhaps that should have been enough of a warning, to tell me that she had more firepower at her disposal than it appeared.

  Although, really, I already knew she had demonic assistance. So I wasn’t really sure if it told me anything new.

  I placed my half-empty glass beside hers on the low table with genuine regret. Then I stood.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” I said, and was surprised to realize the sentiment was genuine. But it didn’t stop me from transforming into the demon right there and then, and looming over her the like the devil himself.

 
To my surprise, the nearly seventy-year-old woman squealed in delight and clapped her hands together.

  “Wonderful!” she said. “You’re even more magnificent than I expected!” Then her expression hardened. “But as you no doubt know, I am protected against anything you can do to me,” she said.

  I wondered if it was true, or if I could pick her up and smash her against something hard, as I’d done with the Agent.

  But Bianca Gambetti wasn’t done. “As to whether I can hurt you, that remains to be seen. Fido, now is good,” she said.

  At first, I had no idea what she was talking about, but then saw that the Wolfhound was no longer the placid guard dog he had been since Bianca had called him to heel.

  Fido? I wondered. That was the name of a teacup dog, one of those handbag jobs that shivered in anxiety and snapped at fingers. Not the name of a raging, massive hound like this one.

  And certainly not the name of the full demon that suddenly stood in the Wolfhound’s place.

  I hadn’t seen a great number of demons in my life, but even I realized that this one wasn’t the most powerful. It was short and ugly, and different from Azrael in every conceivable way. Captain Caveman with bat wings, I thought incongruously, or maybe it was a misshapen gargoyle. In any event, the disparity between Azrael and this creature was obvious, and any rational creature would have backed the fuck off and not even tried to take me on.

  But this thing wasn’t rational. It made a jabbering, slobbering noise and launched itself in my direction with a speed and power I didn’t expect. It connected with the force of a freight train, and I found myself hurtling backwards through the penthouse.

  Even then, Bianca Gambetti remained perfectly unruffled. “Take it outside, if you don’t mind,” she said, and that’s what the demonic creature did. In moments, I found myself tumbling back in the entryway, and then out into the night.