Big Tom narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re moving in on my territory, Deathwalker?”
He smells of fear. Softened up already? I guess there are advantages to a kick-ass reputation as a psycho killing machine.
I smiled. “Not today. I have other business in town,”
“Which is?” Big Tom asked.
“Killing a god—Anubis—and his werejackals. The purpose of this meeting is to tell you not to interfere. Keep your people away from Cross Lake tonight. If all goes well, we’ll be gone in a couple days, and you can climb out of your holes, having survived the hell-storm.”
“That’s it? Run and hide? That’s what you want to tell me?” Big Tom’s eyes were bulging.
I looked at Ringo.
Ringo looked at me.
I looked back to Big Tom, King of the Bears, big fish in a tight fishbowl. “Yeah, I’d say that covers it.” I picked up my menu, eyes sliding across the 64oz. steak. “It’s best if you know your limitation and don’t try to swallow more than you can chew.”
Big Tom rocked to his feet and stood, glaring down at me. “I don’t care who the fuck you think you are. You don’t get to come to my town, to my restaurant, and get what you want.”
I gave him half a smile, a special look I’d perfected as a teenager after hours in front of a mirror. I call it my Amused Smirk of Insolence. “Really? You’re tired of life already?”
Ringo gave the man a hard look. “Think of your family. Think of your clan. Pick a fight you can win.”
Big Tom flicked a hairy paw at me that had sprouted claw tips. “I can snap his spine like a rotted twig.”
I sighed. “If you shift, I shift. This place isn’t big enough for a dragon. It will be destroyed. I’ll spit lightning at you. You’ll be deep-fried where you stand. Body parts will explode off you. It will hurt. You will die. So, go crawl under a rock until I’m done. You can’t handle me; how will you manage a death god? Leave it to me and consider yourself fortunate to keep drawing breath due to my merciful intervention.”
A man like this had never swallowed his pride before. He probably didn’t know how to manage such a feat. He wasn’t going to walk away. He couldn’t. I’d known this all the time. It’s best to play with things before you break them.
Big Tom swung his mean eyes to Ringo. “You’re picking sides? Him against us?”
“I’m backing him against everyone else,” Ringo said.
I took off a magic ring that fit the hand of whoever wore it. The band was silver, with a rune that let me find the wearer wherever he happened to be. The round stone on the face was a Honduran black opal, pitch black with gray, blood red, and blue-violet flakes in it. All my special aides had one.
I handed the ring to Ringo. “This will get you into my Clan House in L.A., past all the security any time you want. It means you’re working for me. That you are under my command, answering to me alone.”
He eyed the ring in my hand. “You barely know me.”
“If you betray me, I can always kill you. Me or someone wearing the same ring.”
“Don’t take it,” Big Tom said. “Why give up being your own man?”
“Just because I serve another, doesn’t mean I’m not my own man. It’s my decision.” He reached out and took the ring from me, sliding it onto his left hand.
“A new Age of Darkness is coming to Earth,” I said. “Few can reach the heights I intend to scale. Or fight the battles needed for the world to survive. In the end, there will be my allies, my subjects, and the dead.” I stood as the waitress brought our drinks. I nodded my thanks and picked up my wine glass to make a toast. “To my triumphal entry into Shreveport, hail the future Master of Earth.” I drained the glass, set it down, and gave Big Tom a stare promising death. “You’re still here?”
He roared and gripped the edge of the table, flipping it up at me. Ringo seemed to anticipate it, snatching away his root beer. I caught the wine bottle as I side-stepped, chambered a kick, and let it shoot out to explode the table—reducing it to kindling in a display of superhuman speed and strength. The fragments swirled in the air, caught in a vortex of summoned wind.
“I am Villager! A shadow mage!”
A disk of black shadow irised open and snatched all the fragments out of the air. The disk collapsed, vanished, and instantly reopened behind Big Tom. The wooden hail came out of the disk, bombarding his backside. This kept him busy while thick vines grew out of the floor boards as they returned to life. A moist, earthy sent arose as moss spread out across the floor.
“High King of Fairy!”
The vines spiraled up his legs, biting with thorns, pinning him in place.
“Dragon Lord!”
I stuck out my left hand and golden jags of electrical fire leaped from me to Big Tom. He gibbered, shuddered, flailed, then went limp, supported by the thorny stalks that had grown up to his stomach. The lightning spared the wine bottle I held. Magic is a function of will after all, and I wanted to drink the wine.
My words continued to crash out. “Demon Lord!”
A long sword of black iron materialized in my right hand. I gripped the hilt and braced against the malevolent red aura of the sword, it’s endless screaming hunger. Called to battle, it demanded to be fed. I held the blade so the tip nearly kissed his throat. His face was painted an infernal red light.
The voice of the sword echoed in my head: Feed me! Feed me!
The waitress that knew Ringo ran up to us. In her excitement, her human face had slipped, turning thick and bruin. Her eyes pleaded with me. “Please, don’t hurt my father. Whatever he did, please forgive him.”
I pulled back my starving sword. The vines released him and he dropped to his knees, somehow, still conscious. Hatred burned in his gaze, but his fear was stronger. He’d peed his pants. We could all smell it.
“Live on your knees, swearing obedience to me, or die on them. Choose now, for you and your family.”
His trembling hands went to the floor. He bowed his stiff neck, dropping his gaze. “I…swear…”
He didn’t exactly what he was swearing, but I let it go. I willed my unfed demon sword away, back to my armory in Malibu, and softened my voice. “Now, was that so hard?”
Digging a few large bills out of my wallet, I let them drop to the floor. Still carrying the bottle of wine. I strolled past Little Tom, heading for the door, feeling the fey magic in me like a high tide, still wanting to play. As I passed them, the deer heads on the walls bowed in homage.
“Fuck!” Ringo whispered as he followed me out the door. His voice strengthened. “You have a gift for making friends.”
“Young in life, I found out I would never be liked, that the best I could hope for was to be feared. I was raised by demons, after all. I learned you have to rip satisfaction from an unwilling universe, sometimes raping her cosmic ass. My corpse may one day kneel, but it will never happen any other way.”
“You’re a psycho.”
I stopped by my Mustang and turned to look at him. “Regret having taken my ring? Give it back, if you want.”
“I may just be muscle, but I’ve always prided myself on staying bought when I take a man’s money. I, uh, am getting paid, right?”
“Yes. I understand my son hired you first. There’s no conflict of interest there. You’ll take his orders, too as a family retainer.”
A crimson shower of stars whirled down around a thickening column of red light that took on human, female proportions. The lightshow died and Selene stood next to me in four-inch stiletto heels. A tight red dress held her knees close together, abandoning her completely up past the bust. There was no back to the dress above the waist. She wore a red scarf, and a red straw hat. Her sunglasses were dark red. She leaned in and put her hands on my shoulder, staring into my face. “Hello, luv, did you miss me?”
I said, “Your presence always touches me deep inside, stirring a rich blend of emotions, one of which is passion, another, an edgy, worried fear as I wonder what you’re schem
ing. Damn. I miss my ability to lie.”
She kissed my cheek. “Oh, how sweet! I didn’t even have to beat that out of you.”
I pointed to Ringo. “The Gator-man is Ringo. He’s sworn to the family. Don’t do anything irreversible to him.”
She looked him up and down. “He’s big.”
I shrugged. “I’m big—where it counts.”
Still leaning in, she licked my earlobe and whispered. “Is sex all that fills your thoughts?”
I stared back at the restaurant. “No, there’s also blood, humiliation, and violence. It’s all part of a demon lord’s work.”
“So, you broke him just because you could?” Ringo said.
“Preemptive therapy. I broke him—like a bone—so he’d heal stronger and become a better tool for me later. Or he’ll live down to a more realistic image of himself that will be less bothersome. Either way, its win-win. Really, he should thank me.”
SIXTEEN
“Having two personalities in one body
Isn’t as much fun as you might suppose.”
—Caine Deathwalker
Pulling off the street, on to the marina, Ringo sent his chopper rumbling up to the cabin rented to the Pride. He parked and went in to hang with the cats, and to help himself to some of their catfish and slaw. The fried oil smell was heavy in the outside air, at least to my better-than-human senses. Selene stayed with me as I strolled up to the 2000 Winnebago Journey and banged on the thin metal door.
The vanishing sun shimmered a burnished orange-red, settling in the west. I figured the vampires would be up soon, so it might as well be at my convenience. I waited. And waited some more. I raised a fist to bang again when the door opened and a sleepy-eyed Gloria peered out at me. She wore a sheer red-silk nightgown that hid nothing and offered everything a man might want to maul, and then some. Her red-lit hungry eyes settled on my throat. “Come to offer me a bite?”
“No. I don’t think you can handle my blood now it’s gone fey. Don’t you have blood-bags in the mini fridge?”
“Fresh is always better. Come in.” She backed away, turned, and went deeper into the RV. The lure of her swaying ass drew me the same way sin follows temptation. Selene followed, pensive, silent. I expected her to remind me I was taken. This restraint was suspicious.
The driver’s cab was hidden behind me by a sliding partition that blocked out light. Two chairs were near the front door. We treaded charcoal carpet, going between loveseats, past a small dining table with its own chairs. The walls were paneled in golden oak.
“Wait here.” Gloria went on past a closed cubical that was likely toilet and shower. She went to the back of the RV and knocked on a closed door. “Caine’s here with Selene.”
The door opened and Kain stared at us with red-lit eyes that let me know he’d missed feeding as well, or maybe we were exactly on time—to be on the menu.
“Not going to happen. I need you two sober. You can’t handle my blood.”
“Sounds like a challenge,” he said.
“One we’ll not be exploring tonight. It’s all going to hit the fan soon. You two need to drain some blood bags, grab your swords, and get ready for combat.”
Kain laughed. “I’m always up for a fight.”
“There will soon be a helluva lot of werejackals to drain, if you’re running low on supplies.”
Kain shuddered in revulsion. “Dog blood? Do I look like some new-made, down on my luck, revenant, reduced to chasing down people’s pets?”
“Werejackals are only part-time animals,” I said. “We all know shifter blood has more kick than straight human blood.”
“Still,” Kain said, “dog? There are nobler beasts.”
“Some might disagree with you there, but it’s your choice.”
Gloria moved past me. “I’ll break out some of the O-neg, and warm it in a sauce pan.”
Kain beamed at her. “Such a good girl…”
Selene passed me and held out a sketchbook to the vampire lord.
Kain took it. “What is this, dear lady?”
“Bats,” she said.
“Bats?” He opened the cover and leafed through the book. Each page had a crude ink sketch of a bat. He looked up from the book. “There is some elusive meaning to this?”
She held out an ink pen. “Sign your name on each page near a bat. There are only fifty of them.”
He offered her a confused smile. “And why would I do that?”
She removed her sunglasses, revealing eyes like red crystal pools, and swept aside the hat and scarf, dropping everything onto a table. The scarf leaped off the table and rippled up Kain’s black suit, circling his neck. Selene caught the ends of the scarf as she pressed in against him. Tugging the scarf, she bent his head, drawing his lips close to her throat.
His nostrils flared. “The blood of a dragon-born, with a hint of something extra.”
“Blood of a goddess,” she said. “but if you’d rather have something warmed in a pan…”
He smiled. “Let’s not be hasty.”
In the back shadows of my mind, golden dragon eyes sprang open, taking on a hard stare. My inner dragon hijacked my vocal cords to object. “Selene! No! You are mine!”
Selene frowned at me, “Can’t you keep him quiet? I’m negotiating a deal here.”
I had the unique experience of being in an argument without knowing my own words until they were said.
My dragon said. “How can you betray me this way!”
“It’s only blood,” Selene said. “Do you know how much I can get for Kain’s illustrated signatures on the Dark Web? Besides, you are hardly faithful to me. You don’t always close down your dragon-awareness while Caine’s ruts wildly with the flavor of the week?”
She has a point, I thought.
“Shut up!” My dragon told me.
I took back control, turned, and went to find Gloria. “Carry on, you guys. Kain, when you’re done, I need to update you on the days many adventures.”
I found Gloria with a water-filled sauce pan. She had just one bag in it, using the hot water to heat the bag, induction of heat would do the rest. “Trouble in paradise?” She smiled up at me as I stopped next to her and accidentally felt up her ass. “Watch the wandering hand, buddy. We aren’t married—yet.”
“But we are engaged. Why be so last century?”
“Which of you wants me, and why?” she asked.
“You mean, is my dragon using your fine ass to get back at Selene? Yeah, let’s go with that.”
“But is it true, or are you beginning to look at me as more than an old friend who happens to look like a hot seventeen-year-old cheerleader in need of a fuck?”
“You wear your centuries very well, my next bride to be, so I have often had intrusive thoughts of uh, aggressive friendliness. Now, I’m wondering why we ever held off.”
“I can hear you, my glutinous husband,” Selene called.
I looked over at Kain as he speed-scribbled his signature on the page of her pad. I sighed. “At least you’re not cheap.”
My inner dragon slipped in one more comment. “Still a whore!”
I shrugged and smiled as she lifted an eyebrow. “Sorry. Somethings are beyond my control.”
Selene stomped over—which is hard to do in stiletto heels—and poked a finger in my face. “It’s all his fault.”
“What did my dragon do to you?” I asked.
“I was in the heights of ecstasy, falling toward earth, the wind whipping past, his claws gripping me tight as he claimed me in the manner of dragons.”
“I know.” Before it could go off, I caught her finger and eased it out of my face. “I was there. I had to withdraw my senses for a little peace while he got his piece of tail.”
“That shows even a man-whore like you has sensibilities. Not so my dragon mate.”
I ached an eyebrow. “What exactly is the problem here?”
My inner dragon seized control of my voice, determined to keep me in the line of fir
e. He said, “It was nothing, really. She’s just being dramatic—and nitpicky.”
“Nitpicky?” I said.
Selene smiled; ugly and beautiful. Beautiful for her malice, frightening and ugly for the promise of pain to come. I suppressed a shiver of fear.
She said, “As you were gushing into my shuddering body, what did I see in your thoughts?”
I discovered myself answering again: “A dragon can’t always help what he thinks. Thoughts are willful things! And supposedly private. I simply wondered how you’d look, fat with a kid, and thought you should have just laid an egg instead.”
Selene’s eyes narrowed. “That much, I might have forgiven, but you also wallowed in your human memories of all the girls the man-whore has screwed. You compared me to them!”
“An idle thought and I repented of it right away.”
I took back my voice to dig the hole deeper for my dragon. Everyone needs a hobby. “What my dragon means to say is, he repented as soon as he realized he’d been caught.” I canted my head at Selene. “Do you mean to tell me that you hold my inner dragon to a higher standard than me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course, I do. Caine Deathwalker is a man-whore, a hell-pig, a shaved ape with a godlike cock, a skirt-chasing hunger never to be appeased. He is trapped by his nature, at its full mercy. He is just someone who my goddess-self likes to play with.”
I had the feeling that this was more Selene’s inner dragon talking than her human goddess form.
She said, “Our dragons are higher beings, our purest selves. If we aren’t faithful in love, we are fallen and depraved.”
I didn’t quite believe her. After all, she’d chosen to bear my human child instead of lying my dragon’s egg. That had to mean something. I hoped. Because a small part of me wasn’t just a man-whore. I sighed. This matter wasn’t going to end anytime soon, and I had important things to kill—soon!
I concentrated and beamed a thought to my inner self.
It doesn’t matter if you’re guilty or not. All you can do at this point is accept the blame, say you’re sorry, and lie your ass off by promising never to do it again. Beg her forgiveness.
Crimson Sword Stalker Page 14
