Demon Lord 5: Silver Crown King

by Morgan Blayde

  Echsel said, “You are peeved, possibly put out?” His head turned. He listened to the nearby hammering, but didn’t comment on it.

  A definite failure of curiosity there.

  “Possibly?” I used my piss-your-pants scary bad-things-are-coming smile. “How did you fail to keep the client’s family safe?”

  Echsel looked away, “We did our job. We stood around and looked tough, until we were asked to leave. How is it our fault that the client wished to—?”

  I held up a palm to stop him. The hammering had stopped. I could hear the sound of dragging. This told me my gallows was on the way. Echsel and the rest of the demons turned their faces to see what was coming. I turned as well. Jorge and Gumbo brought the gallows. The thing looked serviceable, but queer as hell—but not in a gay way. Gumbo did most of the heavy lifting, barely noticing the weight of the twenty-foot beam. Jorge had a push broom, its handle poking out of his armpit, the bristled end hanging behind him.

  They stood the rafter up beside me. The top had a two-by-four nailed to it, a jutting arm whose tip had a metal trashcan nailed in place with its bottom removed. The rope was threaded through the loop of the converted trashcan. Stranger than that was the cobbled base of the rafter. Three mismatched wooden chairs had been nailed on, an attempt at a stable base.

  Gumbo looked at me, his human face dropped so he now had a gator head, his natural look. The skin was several shades of gray with black mottling thrown in. The lids had yellowy splotches added. The eyes themselves were bright green, flecked with gold, possessing black, vertical pupils. Dragon eyes weren’t much different. My right eye—which shifted in and out of human form—looked like that when my dragon nature surfaced, except my dragon often was clouded with golden, electrical fire, not that it affected my vision. The similarity caused me to feel an odd kinship with the gator–demon.

  I gave him a thumbs up, and lied. “Great work. I owe you a chicken dinner.”

  He rumbled with pleasure.

  I told my guys, “Keep this thing from falling over. Gumbo, grab the end of the rope and hold it.”

  Echsel said, “You’re going to hang me?”

  I caught a hint of humor in his voice. He either didn’t believe me or didn’t care. I arched an eyebrow at him. “Why, yes. Is that a problem?”

  He shrugged. “No, not really.”

  Jorge shifted the push broom so he could unscrew the bristled end. He knew it was only the stick I needed.

  I gave my full attention to Echsel and his clan. I had a few points still to make. “What you don’t seem to grasp is that bad guys got to the younger sister. This let them blackmail Lysande into dismissing you. You should have picked up on that and pretended to leave. Then two things should have happened. You should have mounted a covert rescue of the sisters, and you should have called me so I wouldn’t walk blindly into a dangerous situation. I am appalled by the shallowness of your loyalty. You wanted the benefits of being allied to a larger, more powerful demon clan, but care nothing for responsibilities of such an alliance.”

  There was murmuring among the cactus demons. One of them, a female, I think, said, “See, I was right.”

  Echsel turned to give her a hard glare. “Shut up.”

  “Is that what happened to the voice of reason among you? It gets intimidate into silence so your stupidity can know no bounds?” I was using a silky soft voice that hid the boiling rage straining to explode from me like the killing wind of dragon breath.

  “Nothing was out of place,” Echsel insisted. “The mistress showed no distress when giving orders for us to stand down, and informed us she herself would call you, Master.”

  I moved up to Echsel, invading his personal space. “As you say, I am your Master. That means you don’t give a shit about what others say, you call me when I need to know something.” I grabbed his left arm and ripped it off at what would be the elbow. The needles on his skin broke against my graphene-armored gloves, doing me no damage. He hid his hurt, or actually didn’t suffer the way a human would. Sadly, the missing piece of arm would regrow in a few days—a short termed lesson.

  “Yes, my Lord,” Echsel said. “I will take your words to heart.”

  “There’s a lot you’re going to take before we’re done.” I slapped him across the face with his own hand. His head turned sharply. It looked for a moment like his neck was going to break. His face turned back to me, still blandly lacking significant emotion.

  Passive-aggressive bastard.

  I threw his detached arm away. My hands tingled with raw magic. Then came a sharp burst of pain as they enlarged. My fingers tapered, hardening with scales. My dragon claws came out. I sliced Echsel open along his right side where humans kept a kidney. Greenish white sap leaked out, just like what dribbled from his upper arm stub.

  He dropped to his knees.

  The rest of the cactus demons jolted in a common surge toward their clan leader.

  I filled my eyes with the promise of death.

  They stopped moving.

  I looked at the slice I’d made in his side. “Oh, yeah, that’s where you keep some of your testacles. A globby, bladder-like thing lay leaking in the dirt, part of his animal/plant reproductive system.

  “That’s a lot of kids on the ground. Reminds me of my first day in kindergarten. Oh, the carnage...” I smiled. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t play well with others.”

  I stepped back so he could better look up at me.

  The female cactus demon that had spoken earlier said, “My, Lord…?”

  I looked at her in silence.

  She said, “You have every right to your anger, but if you kill him, he can’t learn to do better.”

  “If he’s dead, he can’t fuck up again, either,” I said. “Do you know what he almost cost me?”

  She hesitated. “No, my Lord.”

  “My life and the lives of my friends, a mountain of fey silver, and a valuable ally among the fey, but worst of all,” I thought of Lysande, naked, writhing under me as I pounded into her, “this dumb, nutless plant almost cost me a great pussy!” I kicked him in the face and watched him fall backward.

  I held my hand out and was given the rope, the end with the noose. I snagged his feet with the rope and tightened the loop so I had him by the ankles. “Pull, Gumbo!” The slack left the rope. In moments, Echsel dangled upside down from the gallows. Jo-jo and Jorge each had a knee in a chair, stabilizing the beam as Echsel rose higher and higher. Soon, his head was seven feet off the ground. “Tie it off there, Gumbo.”

  He grunted acknowledgement of my order, tying his end of the rope off on the chair base. He picked up the broom handle Jorge had brought and handed it to me. Once I had it in hand, he went to help support the gallows. I smacked the broom handle against a palm, looking over the cactus demons. “Piñata Time!” I walked away from my dangling servant, choking up on the stick by holding it mid-point where it felt balanced in my hand. Thick, sturdy oak. I turned back toward Echsel, took a few running steps, and jumped past him. The stick in my hand right claw blurred.

  Whack! Echsel jounced and bounced like a tetherball. An “Urrummmph!” came out of his mouth. Green-white fluids striped the ground like strudel frosting as he bled.

  I landed lightly on my feet. “Ah, that was fun.” Turning to the cactus woman, I pointed the stick at her. “You, what’s your name?”

  “Rhanda, my Lord.”

  “Take the stick,” I said.

  “My Lord?”

  “Don’t be coy. You were right. He was wrong. He should have listened to you. That entitles you to have a swing at him. Go ahead.”

  She came forward and held up a palm, waving it a little. “My Lord, I would rather not.”

  “Are you related? Dating?” I held the stick toward her.

  She shook her head. “I just don’t want to do this.”

  I frowned at her. “But it’s Piñata Time!”

  “Still, my Lord…”

  I sighed. “Look
, each of you can take a healthy whack on him, and it’s all over. If I have to do this all by myself, I’m not going to stop until he’s in itty-bitty pieces that I’ll gather up and throw in a furnace. You see, I have to be sure that whoever I appoint to take his place isn’t a dumb fuck. I have to know that when I give an order, it will be followed above and beyond the call of duty—or else.”

  I extended the stick a little more towards her. My eyes narrowed. I dropped the silken softness from my tone. “Rhanda, take it and hit him. I want you to lead by example.”

  She looked at the stick like it might bite her, but extended her hand and took it. I let go and watched her walk up to Echsel. Dangling, he spun around and saw her. His mouth opened. “Rhanda—”

  She hit him across the face. Paused, then hit him again. Then again. Soon, she was beating the unholy hell out of him. I suddenly understood: it wasn’t that she was afraid of hitting him, she’d been afraid that once started, she might not be able to stop. I knew in that moment exactly who was going to take Echsel’s place.

  FIFTEEN

  “Besides murder and mayhem, the best

  way to solve a problem is Margaritas.

  —Caine Deathwalker

  Without my entourage, I was back at the Malibu mansion, wearing a change of clothes, and a magic amulet from Gloria that I’d soon put to good use. I’d sent word to Red that I wanted his advice on what kind of tattoo might best suit Julia, and did he have someone he wanted to recommend for the ink work?

  Talk about needling someone…

  That I would get an outsider to ink someone who’d been under his care, someone he thought of as family, and not let him do it—that was designed to eat him on both a personal and professional level. That I was (apparently) letting a minor have a tattoo, again without consulting him, was salt in the wound.

  He’d resisted coming over and making peace for much longer than I’d thought possible, so playtime was over. The brass knuckles were coming out.

  In the back of my mind, my inner dragon was singing in his sleep; Under Pressure by Queen. Angie sat on a barstool across from me. She smelled very clean. She’d taken numerous showers today, more were probably planned. Her wolves didn’t need her underfoot just now, they were relocating in mass to Izumi’s house next door. She’d be with me in Fairy soon, and didn’t mind if they hung out, so long as they didn’t break anything.

  Angie’s eyes were dark with remembered pain, haunted. Her arms were crossed defensively in front of her as she stared at the items collected on the bar: a box of flexi-straws, seven glasses, bottles of silver tequila, orange flavored liqueur, and lavender simple syrup. I added a shallow bowl of sugar, a bottle of lime juice, and dried lavender.

  My actions finally drew her out a little. “Seven glasses? There are only three of us here.”

  I looked past Angie, at the wingback chairs by the fireplace. Megan sat there, her lovely legs crossed, her top foot bouncing a little in the air. She looked hot as hell in a flame-red mini-dress with translucent red-silk sleeves that balanced the bright gold hair tucked into a chignon in back of her head. Her eyes were currently antique gold, like her many bracelets.

  My bodyguard wore many offensive charms and defensive wards, though not quite as many as Kinsey whom she was impersonating. One of those charms altered her scent so she smelled like a real golden dragon with a hint of ozone thrown in as if lightning were about to be summoned.

  Megan’s demon sword lay on a nearby coffee table. Its sheath and straps were black.

  There was a blue-steel buckle and several throwing stars on the belt. This was not the basket-style rapier Kinsey favored, but the impersonation was still very good considering Megan had only seen my cousin once at the ice cream store.

  I pulled my attention back to Angie, grinning as I answered her question. “I’ve fallen way behind in my drinking so I’ve got to make up for lost time. Besides, I expect Red to come bursting in here at any time, having worked himself into a towering rage. He’ll be thirsty, especially if he’s breathing fire.”

  “Maybe I should clear out,” Angie said.

  “And miss the show?” I took the top off my Darth Vader shaker. Combining the liquid ingredients, I let the drink sit. Adding the dried lavender to the sugar, I applied the dry mixture to rim the glasses. Clinking ice went into the glasses. I picked up the shaker and vigorously shook it. Finally, I strained the shaker’s contents and filled the glasses. “There. All we need now is our guest of honor.”

  A roar sounded outside, above the roof. It rattled the windows.

  I nodded with satisfaction. “And there he is!”

  Angie looked up at the ceiling, cringing as if expecting it to drop on her head. “He’s in dragon form?”

  “Oh, he’ll turn human soon, if only to tell me to fuck myself in some anatomically impossible fashion.” I slid a glass across the bar to her on a napkin. “Here. It really does help.”

  She slid off her stool. “I just remembered something urgent I have to go do. I’ll leave this to you.”

  I gestured at the glass. “But your drink…”

  Across the room, Megan stood and plucked up her sword, strapping it on without much of a hurry, her bracelets clinking. A sultry smile stretched her lips. She took a couple steps toward the bar. I stopped her by lifting a palm in a “wait” gesture.

  Angie said, “I’ll take it to go.” She picked up the glass and went to the living room door.

  As she closed it behind her, I turned my gaze to the far wall where the multiple windows gave me a segmented view of a red-scaled dragon landing on the lawn. The dragon swung its head so that a huge eye filled one window, peering in. The dragon pulled back and roared, spewing fire that melted glass and incinerated the surrounding wood.

  I now had a flame-edged hole in my wall you could drive an eighteen wheeler through—or a dragon. Red surged inside, splintering more of the wall, snuffing out the flames with his writhing body. He trampled a couch, shattered a coffee table, and paused briefly to see the score of a soccer game on the monster-sized Plasma TV. Curiosity assuaged, he turned his attention to me and trudged closer.

  His dragon magic shrunk him step by step until he reached the bar, fully human, wearing a dark red suit with a dusky violet V-neck tee underneath. His long white hair indicated great age for a dragon. His stony skin was hard as his scales in dragon form. The frequent use of magic as a tattoo artist had turned his front and back vivid crimson. His sides were jewel-bright bluish-green. He could have spelled the pigmentation changes away, but didn’t bother.

  The smell of smoke clung to him, dulling his olfactory senses, as he took a seat—oblivious to Megan lurking behind him. He stared at me, trembling with fury.

  I slid a glass over to him, and picked one up for myself.

  He stared at the glass in front of him. “What the hell is that?”

  “A lavender Margareta,” I said.

  “It’s silver, not lavender,” he said.

  I pulled a lavender-colored straw out of the box and stuck it in the drink. “There. Happy?”

  He glared. “Poison, I suppose?”

  “If I wanted you dead, or incapacitated, I’d simply tell Aggie what happened on that last trip we took to Vegas.”

  He blanched. “You would, too.”

  “Besides the obvious reasons, why am I the bad guy?” I asked. “I didn’t abandon you on the battlefield. I’m the one who went to you to make peace, and you wouldn’t even open the door. We’ve been friends a long time. Why do I have to use Julia to get your attention and make you man up? I’ve got your ink all across my body, mixed with your blood. Do you really want me to have someone else finish the work you’ve started? Where’s your pride, man?”

  He snarled, baring jagged, pointy teeth that weren’t quite human. Red Fang looked at me with clear topaz eyes lacking irises or pupils. “I’m man enough not to be your bitch. You don’t get to push my buttons, and have me come running to your beck and call.”

  I sm
iled, sipping my drink. And yet here you are.

  He leaned in over the bar. “Where’s Julia? She’s going back to Aggie with me.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Is she?” I finished my drink, set the empty aside, and reached for his drink. “If you’re not going to drink that, I’ll take it.”

  “It’s too good for me? That’s what you’re trying to say?” He seized the drink I’d given him, fending my hand off.

  Being part dragon, I knew how to play on his possessive nature. Even if he didn’t want the drink, he wasn’t going to give it to me. Not easily. Not the dragon way. I picked up another of the drinks I’d made. “Julia isn’t here. She’s on a play-date with a friend. I’ll let you know if I decide to give her back. I’m not sure I want her raised by a dragon that can’t own up to his mistakes. That wouldn’t be fair to her.”

  “We’re her family. What gives you the right to decide anything for her?”

  “You adopted her into your clan without consulting me. I never surrendered my parental claim on her, but you’re avoiding the issue at hand.” I drained my glass and put it down. “You wronged me. I let you live anyway, and here you are spitting on my generosity. No other golden dragon would have tolerated this. We are either going to get past this ugliness, or I am going to have to kill you.”

  “You think you’re dragon enough to do it. Golden dragon my ass. Fuck all you gold dragons anyway.”

  Now I have you.

  I shook my head sadly. “Oh, Red, you have done it now. You should have limited your insults to me, and not brought my family into it.” I looked past him. “Right, Cousin Kinsey?”

  Red Fang slid off the stool, spinning to see Megan over by the fireplace. “Who?”

  “I told you, my Cousin Kinsey. She’s with the Drake branch of the family. They have a territory here in L.A. I’m not hugely popular with them, so I can’t intervene on your behalf. Sorry, Red. You should call your elders and inform them that you’ve just started a clan war.”

  Megan stomped closer, her face screwed into a display of rage. “No need to let things get out of control. We’ll settle this, here and now.” Her hand went to the hilt of her demon sword. Slowly, she let the blade scrape free of its scabbard. “With a duel to the death.”