Demon Lord 5: Silver Crown King

by Morgan Blayde

  “Hah, in your dreams.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I got your invitation. What the hell are you pulling? You’re being crowned as a fey lord? I thought you were human and dragon, not part fey.”

  “It’s a free country. I can be whatever I want, and twice on Sunday—that’s when I usually fuck your mom.”

  He shrieked incoherently at me for a minute or two. I didn’t really listen, going into my office to make a few drinks. I was behind the bar, ingredients spread out before me, when he finally ran down. I wasn’t really sleeping with his mom, but he’d never believed that. Neither Gloria nor I wanted sex more than our special friendship which might have suffered if taken to the bedroom. Some allies are too valuable to risk.

  “Anyway,” Adrian said, “there’s no way in hell I’m going to Fairy just to watch some man-whore preen.”

  “Your mom’s going,” I said. “She’s catering the event.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there.” He hung up.

  I put my phone away and got busy mixing drinks.

  Most of my demon clan was scheduled to blow town soon for my coronation in Fairy where I held a kingdom even though I wasn’t fey. Some thought I’d stolen the land and forced a bond to it. The truth was, the land had cried out to me, and I’d simply taken what was offered. With repairs concluded, the trip would be a little reward for the demons who’d defended the Clan House from the evil minions of the Blue Star Priestess. The lesson I was giving was clear: Fight hard, work hard, and party harder! Hoorah!

  The coronation served double duty however, acting as bait for my fey enemies. I was tired of Autumn Court and Storm Court assassins jumping me here in the human world when the whim would take them. I was going to set myself up as a target and kill my enemies when they showed themselves. And they would. I’d do everything I could, but send engraved invitations and limos. And if Adrian happened to die in all the confusion, well Gloria couldn’t blame me.

  I had three drinks ready and the bottle handy by the time girls got back. Their hair was wet, combed, and drying. They’ changed clothes, dressing up as if in defiance. That made sense; a woman’s clothing is her armor. Sarah took a seat at the bar and Angie sat next to her. Both glared at me as they picked up their drinks. I grabbed mine. They slammed their drinks back. I took my time. Sweet, smoky liquid fire caressed my throat.

  I put my glass down. Sarah slid hers away, knowing her limit. Angie shoved her glass at me, holding it above the bar. “Hit me, again.”

  I poured. She slammed that one back, too.

  “You’re supposed to drink slow enough to enjoy the flavor,” I said.

  “Fuck you,” Angie said.

  I knew by the snarl that she wasn’t really offering, so I didn’t get my hopes up. Instead, I poured us both another shot. I wasn’t worried about Angie getting bombed outta her skull. Werewolves—even in human form—have an incredible tolerance for liquor. Nearly as good as mine.

  Angie finished her third drink and held onto the empty glass while pointing at me. “You know what I hate about you.”

  “Probably a long list. What specifically?”

  “That you’re not only right, but a fucking insufferable bastard about it.”

  I smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  Sarah looked at Angie. “You’re crazy.”

  Angie shook her head. “Nah, don’t let him fool you. He knew I’d break apart if he was nice to me, so he acted normal instead. And he’s right. I knew that something inside had gone sour. His spirit had seemed to be fine after his resurrection, but over time, a shadow crept in. He started losing himself a little at a time. Then the blue star bitch attacked the city, and William made a decision he knew was wrong. I think he knew he was destroying himself. Maybe he wanted someone to put him down and return him to the grave before his real self was totally swallowed.”

  Sarah looked at me. “It was suicide by asshole.”

  “Next comment you make,” I told her, “I’m rolling you into a ball and sticking your head up your ass so you can see what dark really looks like. Or better yet, I can just bitch slap you with my cock.”

  Sarah’s eyes smoldered. “I’ll tell Gloria on you.”

  I laughed. “Gloria would just be miffed about missing the action. She might insist on an instant replay.”

  I refilled Angie’s glass. This one she drank slowly.

  She said, “I should have stepped up and defended the pack, challenging for the lead spot. I might not have won, but I’d sure feel a lot better about myself.”

  “Look,” I said, “If it’s punishment you want, it’s punishment you already got. Why not shake it off and be the alpha now that your pack needs.”

  Angie shook her head. “I can’t do that. With William gone, it’s the Fenris’ call. If I just take over, he might think I’m acting presumptuous. It’s asking for a slap down.”

  Angie had apparently not left next door without her precious phone; I heard an Abba ringtone: “Money, money, money…”

  I stared at her. “For a high priced attorney, that’s strangely appropriate.”

  “Shush.” She waved me into silence. “Hello, this is Angie—”

  I heard a deep, growly voice over the phone, interrupting her.

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “No, I understand. The pack, honestly, it needs a lot of work. I—”

  Growly voice, interrupting again. No nonsense phone call apparently.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll tell him.” The call ended. She put her phone away.

  “Tell me what?” I asked. Damn, cheap-assed, were-wolf phones; can’t overhear shit, even this close

  Sarah said, “What makes you think the call was about you?”

  I just stared at Angie. “That was the Fenris, right?”

  She nodded. “He’s appointed me alpha. It’s a probationary position. If I prove myself, I get to keep it, if not,” she shrugged, “I’ll be sent to Chicago or Detroit, some place that heavily benefits from excessively liberal policies.”

  “That’s cruel and merciless,” I said. “Any of a thousand hell-dimensions would be better.”

  She squared her shoulders, slipped on a mask of confidence, and slid off the barstool. “I have to go. There’s a lot of work to do. I gotta round up my wolves, and I think we need a new place to live.”

  “So that means you’re not going to be available for my coronation and kegger?” I asked.

  Angie headed for the door. “Sorry, no. Later.” She crossed to the door and went out.

  “I’m free,” Sarah said.

  I looked at her. “I can use some hired help to get things ready and help serve the guests.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t come cheap.”

  “Dinner and a movie first?” I asked.

  She looked confused.

  I smiled. “Never mind. I’ll be talking to Gloria about catering the affair. I’m sure she’ll be roping you in.”

  “One thing I want to ask you, Caine.”

  “Yeah?”

  “That egg I threw, it killed William.”

  “Eventually.”

  “And you gave it to me, knowing I was mad enough to use it because of Angie. You let me kill my own grandfather.”

  “Uh, huh.” I waited to see if there was going to be an epic emotional explosion.

  “Thanks. It was my mess since I resurrected him. I’m glad you let me clean it up.”

  A rational woman. How unexpected. “You owe me one,” I said.

  “Yeah, I do. But I’m not joining that harem of yours.”

  “I’m crushed.” I moved out from behind the bar, heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Sarah asked.

  “Like Angie said, ‘there’s a lot of work to do.’”

  “Can I get a ride into L.A.? I don’t think I’ll be staying with the wolves any more. That would just be awkward. And painful. And maybe not free anymore.”

  I paused in the door way, looking back at her as she slid off her st
ool. “Why don’t you stay here? No one else is. More and more of my time is being spent at the clan house. You need a place to stay, and I get a house-sitter who can keep an eye on the place. I have protective wards on the property, but I’d feel better if someone were here that could call me if something weird develops.”

  “If I put myself out like that for you, I wouldn’t owe you a favor, right?”

  “You’d be eating my food and drinking my booze, so you’d still owe me,” I said.

  “Well, okay. I’ll do it.”

  “Good. I’ll get you a spare key. Just don’t bring any strangers here. Set off the wards, and it could get quite messy.” As with all my trusted friends, the wards already were tuned to accept Sarah’s presence. She came over and followed me into the living room. I went to the front door. There was a small table there for mail and other odds and ends. A lamp made out of a conch shell was there. The Old Man had bought it in Mexico. And had refused to let me use it for target practice. I tilted the lamp and pulled out a set of keys I knew the Old man kept there. I handed the keys to Sarah.

  Then swept her to the side, violently pushing her to the floor.

  She opened her mouth to protest.

  I held a finger against my lips, a hushing gesture.

  She went still, staying quiet. William had trained her well.

  I mentally linked to my armory and summoned a pair of semi-automatics Berettas. My heightened senses picked up a presence on the porch, something waiting for me to come out. The bell hadn’t rung. I heard the soft scrape of a foot on the porch. I smelled ozone. I figured it this was another assassin from the Storm Court. The killer had been smart not to try to breach the stronger wards of the house, but stupid taking on a hit against me.

  Everyone figures they can succeed where others fail. The last dozen assassins I’d taken out had all thought so. I hoped this one might entertain me better.

  FOUR

  “It’s good I like killing, so much is needed.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  The door shattered. Wooden shrapnel exploded inward, riding a hard blast of wind. At the core of the wind, a thick, forking vein of blue fire stabbed into the living room. The jags writhed, scorched the air, and faded.

  Catching the edge of the attack, I was shoved away, thrown off balance. I hit the carpet and rolled up against the couch. From where I sprawled, I could see Sarah lying flat, trying to avoid attention. Her eyes were turned my way, wide and dark with fear.

  A tall, thin figure appeared on the threshold, casually batting away the broken trim edging the doorway. He wore purplish-black leathers. The odd-shaped buttons on his torso were actually tiny bird skulls with empty, shadowed eyes, maybe crows. A pale-violet scarf wrapped his lower face, a contrast to his flaxen hair. The assassin had the long pointy ears of the fey. His eyes pulsed with electric-blue as if lightning coiled around his brain, seeking escape, bleeding out along his optic nerves.

  I was up on one knee, my guns pointing his way. I fired repeatedly, driving him back. There were little sparks where the bullets were stopped on impact. Noticing the stiffness of his coat, I figured he’d charged and hardened it in some way with fey magic, the mystic equivalent of body armor. I aimed higher, trying to puncture the scarf around his lower face.

  He flung himself back out of the house, not liking my weapon fire a bit.

  I yelled at Sarah, “Call Izumi. If she’s home, she can help out.” Izumi was Winter Court fey, and my neighbor on the opposite side from the wolves. She also wanted to be co-regent of my domain in Fairy. She had a vested interest in keeping me alive. The sex wasn’t bad either.

  I went onto the porch, both guns firing blindly because the assassin seemed to have vanish.

  I didn’t trust appearances. Most fey have some degree of glamour they can use to magically hide their presence. Wind roared across the yard, sweeping in to crash across the porch. I was slammed aside, going off my porch, through the side railing on the far left. I fell and rolled on the lawn. A fist of wind picked me up and heaved me into the sky, holding me there.

  The world became an insane carousel. Everything blurred. Once he dropped me, the assassin had every reason to believe my balance would be shot to hell. The guy was good, sticking to wind. I’d faced lightning from most of the others. My enemies had finally realized that—as a golden dragon, even in human form—lightning only made me stronger. Tapping into my inner dragon let me throw lightning around of my own, my heritage from my mother, a dragon princess. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to spare for a prolonged change.

  A length of silver chain rode the wind to me, wrapping me, binding my arms at my sides. I sent my guns away to the armory since I couldn’t shoot at the moment, and when I summoned them back, the magazines would be full. I’d already come close to emptying my clips.

  The release came that I’d expected; I dropped like a lead weight, crashing into the grass. Stunned, my thought raced faster than my body’s responses. I knew I needed to move, but my muscles just didn’t get it, so I poured raw magic into my Dragon Flame tattoo. The ink warmed. A fire blast fanned out. I hoped I’d get lucky and hit the assassin. At worst, the counter-attack might drove him off a little, and buy me recovery time.

  The chain was reinforced with fey magic because silver isn’t one of the stronger metals. The fey might well have underestimated my power. I’d see if the chain could take real punishment. My body rallied, arms flexing with dragon strength. Several links slowly opened, stretching, melting where touched by my dragon flame. Hah! The reinforcing spell is crap.

  The winds came again, attacking my flame more than me. Whirling funnels attempted to scoop up my fire and save the chain. It broke, falling away. And then Izumi was there, wearing an ice-blue, silk jumpsuit, white-gold earrings, and silver studded ankle boots with silver–capped toes. She wore a white leather vest with fringes. With her fey glamour, she looked like a Japanese cowgirl, or maybe a really expensive whore. As if she could read my thoughts, she smiled and dumped tons of snow on me as the air temperature plummeted below zero.

  Smothering snow and superhot dragon fire annihilated each other, producing a heavy bank of damp steam. The cloud coiled around the storm fey’s cones of wind, getting ripping away as it was funneled elsewhere, but in the moments the shroud lasted, we saw the pocket of nothingness hiding the fey. His snaking wind cones all originated from that point.

  Izumi ducked low, crouching, hands hitting the ground.

  I jumped high, passing a twelve-foot mark, and opened fire on the magic-cloaked fey. I still couldn’t see him, but my slugs flattened against something unseen, and fell to the grass. A coil of wind wrapped around my torso. My ribs were compressed. I couldn’t breathe. Fuck!

  But my distraction worked. I’d given Izumi time to complete her attack. The grass between her and the other fey warrior had flashed from frost to thick ice sheeting. The ice had tunnels where it enclosed the lower legs of the invisible Storm fey. He was trapped, pinned, and dropped his glamour as a waste of energy that no longer did him any good. Popping into view, he looked the same as I’d seen before with the addition of a few grass stains, and a little singing on the end of his scarf. The face covering had slipped, showing the usual beauty you’d expect from his kind.

  The coil of wind crushing me died, as he pointed palms down at the ice around his lower legs. Blue lightning flashed, fanned, and bit. The ice exploded and hailed everywhere. I fell into a snow bank, mentally thanking Izumi for cushioning my fall. Rolling free, I summoned my reloaded semi-automatics. This time I had exploding ammo. I was done messing around.

  Forked branches of lightning stabbed at Izumi as the storm fey changed target. She conjured thick sheets of ice for a shield, but also threw herself aside. She hit and rolled as the lightning broke the ice.

  The storm fey moved his hands, sweeping the electrical fire after her.

  I ran toward her, slamming one of my guns into her hands. I spoke loud enough for the assassin to notice I’d given
her a gun, “Shoot him!”

  The lightning caught me, which is to say I caught it with raw magic, pulling the fire into my body, letting my inner dragon swallow it. The storm fey tried to drag the lightning off me, and toward Izumi, but I wouldn’t let it go, drinking greedily. The assassin’s face displayed astonishment and I commandeered his control.

  A shot sounded. The assassin’s head jerked, and exploded into a frothy red mist.

  Love those exploding rounds.

  Anything else was overkill, but I’d already flicked his lightning back at him. It danced over him, burning him heavily, filling the air with the stink of blackened meat. The lightning vanished. The dead fey toppled and lay still, smoke wagging away, thinning.

  “We’re not getting anything out of him now,” Izumi said. “You could have told me the gun had explosive rounds. I’d have aimed for his leg.”

  “There was no guarantee the rest of his clothes weren’t charmed the same way as his long coat. My regular bullets weren’t even getting his attention. Besides, I’ve put down enough of these guys to know exactly what they want. Me, Dead.”

  I lifted my hand in the air.

  Izumi tossed the borrowed gun back to me. It had a heavy coat of frost on it from her hand, explaining how she’d managed to fire it despite fey being highly allergic to steel. I’d really only expected her to yelp at the bite of the gun, dropping it like a good distraction while I turned the lightning back on its user. I hadn’t counted on Izumi being so imaginative. She could still surprise me.

  “Can you cover this mess with a glamour,” I asked, “and call a cleanup crew to come out and dispose of the remains?”

  “Sure, but you’ll owe me.”

  “What else is new?” I sent my guns back to the armory.

  Sarah called out from the mansion’s broken doorway. “Caine, is it over?”

  “When is anything over?” I walked to my garage, lifted the sliding door, and went in. I’d had to have the garage widened because of my habit of buying Mustangs. I didn’t bother getting a building permit for this; I’d had a high-level magic-user attach a pocket of disjointed space instead. This made my footsteps on the concrete seem to echo into infinity.