Demon Lord 5: Silver Crown King

by Morgan Blayde

  Her gaze shot over to me, raking my chest. “I still want a tattoo. I figure if it’s magic, it can be made to keep its shape as I grow.”

  “Well, yeah, that’s theoretically possible, but you should get Aggie’s and Red’s permission.”

  “Why? You’re my father.”

  Clothing in hand, Izumi emerged from the closet in time to hear that. She tossed me slacks and a shirt while giving me a piercing look. “Really?”

  “Adopted father,” I said. “Her mom died on my watch, and Julia is a half-ling like me. Every now and then, I do something good to balance out my karma.”

  “So, I can get the tattoo?” Julia asked.

  Izumi went back into the closet for her own clothes. I called after her. “Dress lightly.

  We’re all going to Santa Fe today, to Lysande’s silver shop. Gotta make sure the crowns are ready.”

  She shrieked in joy. I heard her doing a little happy dance, and hoped my closet would survive.

  I looked back at Julia who was still waiting for an answer. “I’ll let you get a couple temp tattoos, but you got to talk the Old Man into donating blood for them.”

  “Oh, please,” she said. “Give me something challenging to do.”

  Izumi emerged in khaki shorts, a pink top, sneakers, and a straw hat tied on with a tangerine scarf. All she needed was sunglasses, sun lotion, and her purse. She took over the conversation with Julia who held her plate, forking up a last bit of pancake. I backed into the bathroom and hurriedly dressed while listening in.

  “Why do you hide beautiful skin with ugly ink?” Izumi asked.

  I paused a moment. Ugly ink?

  “It’s not ugly,” Julia said. “Red does good work. And they’re useful. If I’d had a magic tattoo, my finger wouldn’t have gotten cut off. I couldn’t have been used to lure Caine into a trap. He and Red wouldn’t be mad at each other now. Next time someone comes after me, I want to be able to fight.”

  “But you’re a dragon,” Izumi said. “You can turn into a beast and breathe fire.”

  “It’s really hard. And it hurts. I’m last in all my classes. My classmates make fun of me all the time. You know what’s worse than the jokes and laughter?”

  I finished dressing, zipping up, tucking my shirt in.

  Julia said, “The pity in their eyes when they look at me. I hate it.” She sounded like tears weren’t far off.

  I went out into the bedroom and over to Julia. “Go put your plate in the sink. Rinse it off. As soon as I get my shoes on, and a belt, we’ll go talk to the Old Man.”

  Her eyes brightened. She wiped tears away. “Great. I want a butterflies. Magical exploding butterflies that will pull off my skin and go blow people up!”

  I nodded. “Good choice. Just make sure they’re gone before you go back home.”

  “Caine,” Izumi said, “you’re going to encourage this?”

  I said, “Among the fey, fourteen is old enough to marry a daughter off. By then, most girls know any number of defensive spells, and have glamour to hide behind. Why should I keep Julia more vulnerable than they are? You know what I am, what I’m meant to be. I have powerful enemies and I’m going to make more. That means that Julia will sooner or later be back in the crosshairs again. I can’t always protect her, but I can help her to protect herself.”

  I looked Julia in the eyes. “It’s what I owe to you and your dead mother.”

  Julia nodded emphatically. “Damn straight!”

  Izumi looked at her. “Don’t say damn.”

  TWELVE

  “Never go on a road trip with a trunk full of

  dead hookers! It’s not as fun as it sounds.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  We left the two cars parked near the city square, tramping the sidewalks past the old adobe buildings, the galleries and cafes. Julia and Izumi had me sandwiched between them, but weren’t fighting each other over my attention. They were determined to leave no room for anyone else to make moves on me.

  “No more additions to the harem with my approval,” Izumi said.

  Julia looked up at me. “Just how many girlfriends do you have?”

  “Oh,” I said brightly, pointing, “we’re here!”

  The sign on the window said: Santa Fe Silver Gallery. We went in. All of us. The entire fucking entourage. Old man had manufactured the demon blood temp tats for Julia. Her hair was loose. She wore the blue butterflies proudly across her stomach, revealed by a cropped pink tee. She rounded out her look with a blue jean skirt, sandals, and sunshades borrowed from Izumi, who looked less than pleased with the arid heat. In exchange for the little explosive favors, I’d been strong-armed into accepting a security team to cover my ass: the same four from the ice cream store. They were going on and on about how another ice cream cake would certainly beat the heat.

  I was determined not taking the hint, much to their dismay. I was feeling no pain, having stopped at a convenience store for a cherry Freeze which I’d spiked with jack Daniels. Julia had gotten a Freeze herself, non-alcoholic of course. I didn’t think she could get drunk, her dragon metabolism being as efficient as mine, but I was in enough trouble with Aggie already.

  Gumbo insisted on going in first to make sure it was safe. A fey business was never to be trusted. A fey water pony had tried to drown him as a child, and he still held a grudge. He’d been telling the story to Julia. We went in and Jo-jo and Jorge hung back to bracket the door. Should ninja assassins or killer clowns barge in, they’d be ready. Gumbo went up to the glass cases where the sales ladies stood with uncertain smiles on their fey faces.

  Megan stood right behind me and Julia. Izumi kept giving the shape-shifting demon a cold stare. I’d forbidden out-right combat. When they first met, both had bristled. Izumi had an edge in cup size, at first, but Megan had rectified that and given herself Asian features as well, as if to say I could have every woman in the world through her. It was an intriguing thought: without changing sexual partners, I could go straight from Tailor Swift to Sailor Moon. Note to self: wait until Izumi is not around, and make a list.

  Both sales woman were the ones I’d met on my last visit out here, just a month ago. Hot blonds with jeweled hair and low-cut gowns that invited you to look at a lot more than what they sold. Their faces were symmetrical. Their figures lean and perfect, skin like cream, lips of ruby. I fed raw magic to a special tattoos. It awoke, a warm tingle followed by the ghost sensation of a thousand needles biting into my flesh. I rode out the pain, manfully hiding it. This was the cost of using borrowed dragon magic in my human form—a cost Julia would be spared due to the temp nature of her tats.

  Having paid the price, my vision became magically enhanced. I glanced at the displays of jewelry on dark blue velvet. The silver and turquoise rings, bracelets, and necklaces acquired a soft glow, a shimmering color coding no one else could see. Pastel tones were safe. Dark, murky tones would have indicated dark magic. Angry red tones would have indicated violent spells, trapped items to be wary of. Suspended over each item was a tags that betrayed the purpose of any spells. Other information included the complexity of the spell and its strength. Everything here had a low-grade compulsion spell to encouraged generosity. I didn’t expect that to work on me or Izumi. The rest of us, I wasn’t so sure.

  The saleswomen recognized me with deep formal bows. With my new vision in operation, I could see their fey forms. They were slimmer, less endowed in breast size, willowy with the usual pointy ears. The fey on the right wore a saffron dress with billowy sleeves, restrained pink lipstick, and had hair assembled in a French chignon. She wore silver earrings with blue teardrops which advertised for the business. The other fey had grown taller, skin shining with a moon-glow. An opal materialized in the middle of her forehead. She wore cornflower blue silk and a necklace of sapphires set in silver that made my inner dragon sit up and take notice.

  Gumbo stared at them suspiciously. Recognizing him for hired help, the ladies ignored him, addressing me. “How may we serve?”<
br />
  “Is Lysande in the shop today?” I asked.

  “No,” the saffron one said, “but you are expected. You may go back to her office.”

  I nodded and led the way around the display cases with Gumbo hurrying to try to get in front of me. I stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Since you don’t know where I’m going, how are you going lead the way?”

  He thought about that a second. “Oh, okay.”

  I went through a curtain to a back room with a teak desk, phone, closed laptop, and cabinets. The space also held tables and chairs, and a kitchenette with a sink, counters, and microwave. I headed straight for a cream door with silver-scroll inlay. The handle was silver as well, probably made by this very shop—or in the world across this next threshold. My magically enhanced sight picked up the green of portal magic on the door, but I’d known from my last visit that this was an entrance to fairy, like the one I had in my Malibu mansion.

  I gave warning to my entourage. “Once past this door, we’ll be under-the-hill, in the Mountains of Fairy.”

  “Really?” Izumi said. Maybe I’ll meet someone I know.”

  “Doubtful,” I said. “We’ll be in a silver mine.”

  I opened the door and crossed over. A tingle of fey power skimmed me, a fading tingle, as with one step, I passed into another world, an office actually, with silver being the dominant metal since fey were allergic to iron and all forms of steel. I remembered the yellowy gray poplar desk, six by nine feet, dominating the center of a fifty-foot room. The usual visitor chairs in front of the desk were almond-blond with garnet velvet upholstery and hand-carved dragon-toed feet.

  Nice. Very realistic, my inner dragon said. He vibrated with greed. We both felt the pull of the raw silver ore in the rock surrounding us.

  There was an ink stand with upright quill pens made from peacock feathers. One of the feathers was bent, almost broken. I think I did that the last time I fucked Lysande across her desk. There were scrolls and invoices waiting for her attention. She wasn’t here, but the three-inch butterfly people in their jewel-dusted gowns hovered defensively above the desk as we approached.

  “Chill,” I said. “We’re expected.” They should have known they were safe with the matching statues back behind the desk, guarding the hexagon windows that looked into the silver mine. The statues also had a smoky brazier of red coals between them, warming the room. The carvings were red marble with pinkish veins, silently snarling monsters with male heads, shark teeth, lion bodies, bat wings, and scorpion tails. Manticores. They sat on their haunches like overgrown kitties, and wore spiked collars made of gold set with rubies. My special vision told me the collars were the mechanism that brought them violently to life should Lysande need protection.

  The statues hadn’t stopped me from killing Lysande’s father. Fortunately, any resentment she might have felt about that didn’t prevent her from sleeping with me. Really, it was the younger sister I had to worry about. A child younger than Julia, she wanted vengeance for what I’d done, and had animated a wolf rug in an attempt to kill me. Damn thing had tried to bite my arm off. Fortunately—since I don’t murder children—I had Julia to watch my back. She took one of the visitor chairs. Izumi took the other, leaving me and my entourage to stand. Fuck that. I went around the huge desk and took Lysande’s chair.

  “Before Lysande gets here,” I said, “I need to explain about the statues behind me.”

  Everyone’s stares went to them.

  They are weapons, able to come to life and eat you for dinner. Don’t mess with Lysande or you’ll be messing with them, and that’s not smart. She likes dogs. She’ll probably come in with her fey hounds in tow. You don’t want to piss them off either. This is friendly territory. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble.” But with the fey, things can change in a heartbeat. That’s why I’ve identified the threats here for everybody.

  Julia studied the manticore monsters while absently rubbing the butterfly tattoos stuck on her stomach. I think she was hoping for a chance to try them out. Fortunately, commonsense asserted itself, and she looked away. I did too, seeing a side door open. Lysande swept in, her hounds with her. They were the size of a Shetland ponies, tar black with rippling jade stripes along their sides. Flop-eared, they bounded into the room and froze, seeing us all. Each had four red eyes. Recovering from surprise, they snarled, displaying yellow-white teeth and sandpaper tongues of dark purple.

  My magically enhanced vision sheered through what I meant to see, finding deception underneath. Not an illusion of glamour, but a twisting of body by shapeshifting magic. Someone was looking us over without giving themselves away—they thought.

  Julia squealed. “Oooo, I want one!”

  “Trust me,” I said, “you don’t.” Lysande was either a traitor, or compromised and under enemy control.

  Megan whispered something very low to her team. My guards went from watchful to tense. Their hands stayed near their weapons, without drawing them, or casting any offensive spells.

  As a shifter herself, Megan had somehow made the same discovery as me.

  Lysande shushed her pets. “Sit!”

  They looked at her, conveying that they’d much rather chew up the company, but settled down under her stern stare. The animals stayed where put as she came closer, circling the desk to greet me.

  Her long silver hair was pulled back tight, defining the shape of her skull. A ponytail hung down her back. Her skin was creamy white except for a touch of tangerine blush applied to her cheeks. She wore an all-black silk pantsuit belted with chains of silver. Silver bracelets jangled on her left arm. Silver had also been used unsparingly to adorn her calf-high boots. Rather than throwing me out of her chair, she made herself at home sliding into my lap, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

  I heard both Julia and Izumi growl.

  I’ve made my hounds behave,” she said. “You do the same.”

  “Be nice,” I told her. “Izumi is a client. If she’s not happy with your work, you don’t get paid.”

  Lysande looked over at Izumi and said, “Sorry. I felt threatened by your beauty. I’ll behave.” Her glance slid to Julia. Lysande whispered to me, “Isn’t she a little young for you?”

  I usually explain Julia as an orphan I’d taken in. It suddenly occurred to me that she might be embarrassed by such an introduction. I said, “That’s Julia, my daughter.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, “I see the resemblance now. A beautiful child.” Lysande certainly knew how to sling bullshit. Her stark admission of jealousy had soothed Izumi at once, flattering the ice princess.

  Izumi said, “Fine, I’ll overlook the insult, just get off him before this room gets filled with ice and snow.”

  Lysande sprang off me, but probably not from fear. She said, “Oh, Winter Court fey? I see why silver was chosen instead of tacky old gold. My work will definitely suite you. Wait here. I’ll only be a moment.” She went passed her hounds making a tisk sound that brought them to their feet, chasing after her.

  “You’re doing her, too?” Izumi said.

  “When I’m available?” Megan muttered.

  Julia looked at me with pity. “You have problems.”

  “You have no idea,” I told her. So many woman in the world, and only one of me. I wondered if the day might not come when a harem would become more bother than it was worth. How many women is too much?

  Turning in her seat to look behind her at Megan, Izumi said, “Excuse me, I don’t believe I caught your name.”

  “Not guilty there,” I said. “She’s still on my “To Do” list.”

  Izumi turned to stare icily through me. “We are going to have to set a few limits. I long ago reconciled myself to sharing you—but not with the known universe.”

  “That’s not my goal. Someone else can do the ugly ones. It’s good employment for the blind.”

  It wasn’t long before Lysande returned, without the mutts. The four-footed spies were no doubt reporting to their superiors. Lysande carried
a silver tray draped with midnight blue velvet. Sitting on the cushioning were a pair of crowns: silver circlets to fit our heads, a slightly bubbled shape of woven silver rose from there. Vertical bands were spaced at eight compass points, capped by a final band of silver that had been artistically worked so that on my larger crown, it resembled a dragon with blue-diamond eyes circling the headpiece. The final band on Izumi’s crown looked like interlocked snowflakes, each one with a small white diamond at the center.

  Lysande balanced the tray while swiping across the desk to clear a space. She set the tray down so Izumi and I had it between us. “There!” The silver smith stepped back, smiling, fists on her hips, waiting for due adulation.

  My bodyguards murmured in appreciation.

  Julia’s eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open as her own inner dragon sat up to take notice. “Oh, I definitely want one of those.”

  My inner dragon stared through my eyes. Mine!

  Not so fast, I thought. Under the desk, my hand closed on a Berretta PX4 Storm semiautomatic, magically summoned from my armory in Malibu. I gave Julia a hard stare to get her attention, and gave a command in dragon hisses: “Ready your butterflies. Statues are yours.”

  Her glance slid to the stone manticores, then back to me. “Yes, father, the crowns are very lovely.”

  “Oh, that’s what you said,” Izumi leaned forward in her chair. “I must admit my dragon is a little rusty.”

  Seeing her about to pick up her crown, and a slight widening of Lysande’s smile, I sharpened my voice. “Izumi!”

  Startled, she stopped, pulling back. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can see a faint trace of slumbering energy. There are opal beads worked into the designs—dream stones. The crowns have been enspelled.”

  “No, you’re wrong,” Lysande said. “I wouldn’t do something like that.”

  I stood, my gun against my body where the statues couldn’t see the threat to their mistress, not yet. I looked Lysande in the eyes and asked a simple question. “Where’s Teramantha? I thought for sure your sister would anxious to kill me.”