Green-Eyed Demon (Sabina Kane #3)

by Jaye Wells

  “Sure,” I said. Figured I might as well since I was there anyway. “Also, Zen needs some chicken feet.”

  “Can do.” Alodius leaned forward over the counter. “How about I throw in some nice calf brains for Kitty-No-Manners there. Might soften his disposition.”

  The cat groaned in my arms. For a demon who subsisted on Cheez Doodles and beer, the thought of raw brains obviously didn’t sit too well. “Err, that’s okay. He’s on a special diet. But I’m surprised you carry brains. Is that… normal?”

  “Darlin’, us Cajuns eat everything from the rooter to the tooter.” He cackled, slapping the counter at his joke.

  I swallowed the bile his word picture conjured. “Oh.”

  Alodius laughed again. “All righty then. Let’s get that blood.”

  He whistled tunelessly as he took the jug out of the cooler. Once he’d plopped it on the counter and pulled out a funnel he said, “So what happened to that mage friend of yours?”

  I jerked a thumb toward the door. “He’s waiting in the car.”

  Blood sloshed out of the container to land on the butcher block with a splat. Alodius smoothly wiped up the spill with a towel. “That’s nice. Have y’all had a chance to see much of the Big Easy yet?”

  I shrugged. “A bit.”

  “Y’all been to The Court of Two Sisters yet?”

  I shook my head.

  He paused, looking up from his task. “How ’bout Acme Oyster?”

  “Nope.”

  “Brennan’s?”

  Another shake.

  “Cher, please tell Alodius you been to Tipitinas?”

  My eyes shifted left.

  “What have y’all been doing with your time?”

  “Well, I did ride a trolley and visit Jackson Square.”

  He clicked his tongue and shook his head, which made his jowls swing hypnotically.

  “I’ve been busy with some personal issues.” Why did I suddenly feel the need to defend myself to the man?

  “Darlin’, if y’all don’t mind a little piece of advice?” He paused and waited for my nod.

  “We all got personal—” he pronounced it “poisenal”—“issues, but that can’t stop y’all from enjoying life.”

  I remained silent, allowing the odd man’s wisdom to sink in. Was he right? I had to admit my life always seemed to have more than its share of drama. Was I using that as an excuse to avoid enjoying myself? I always thought I’d have time to pursue things I wanted once things settled down. But there was always something new to worry about, some new crisis to manage. Despite getting his point, I wasn’t convinced.

  After all, it felt wrong to play tourist when my sister was having the exact opposite of fun. But wasn’t it Maisie who just a couple short weeks ago had encouraged me to grab some happiness for myself? Then I’d argued that as an immortal I had nothing but time ahead of me. Her response had been to point out that with so many people wanting me dead, nothing was guaranteed, especially my immortality. Of course, back then she wasn’t being held against her will or on the receiving end of her psychotic grandmother’s fangs. So maybe the living-it-up could wait.

  Alodius handed the packages over the counter. “That’ll be forty for the blood and twenty for the chicken feet.” He winked. “The advice I threw in gratis.”

  “Okay, well, thanks for the blood and stuff.”

  He waved away my appreciation. “My pleasure, darlin’. You go enjoy this beautiful night.”

  I smiled. I’m not sure he’d consider casing a house for signs of vampire life romantic, but it was close enough, I guess. “Actually, we’re on our way to take a stroll through the Garden District.”

  He smiled. “Well, now, that’s good to hear. Y’all have fun!”

  13

  Ten minutes later, we parked the Gremlin next to a cemetery wall a couple of streets away from the address Mac had given us. Giguhl perched on Adam’s shoulder as we walked toward Prytania Street. We approached slowly, keeping our eyes peeled for hostiles. It was after midnight, so most of the houses on the block were dark. But up ahead, a warm glow filtered through large trees shielding the houses from the street.

  I checked the street number on the white Greek revival on the corner. “The next one’s our target,” I said, pointing. “G, think you can sneak up to one of the windows without being noticed?”

  The cat looked at me with pity from atop the mage’s shoulder. “That was a joke, right?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Just don’t get caught, okay?”

  “Yes, Mom.” With that, the cat hopped off Adam. His pale ass glowed in the night, making it easy to follow his trail until he disappeared behind the heavy branches shading the house.

  “You picking up anything?” Adam asked.

  I looked toward the mansion, using all my senses to try to search for some clue that Lavinia might be inside. Muffled rock music reached my ears from nearby. My nostrils perked up when they caught a whiff an unmistakably pungent scent. “Someone’s smoking some quality Mary Jane nearby, but that’s all I’m getting.”

  “Hmm,” Adam said, keeping his eyes glued on the house. “Stay alert anyway. There’s no telling what G’s going to find in there.”

  As if on cue, the cat’s moon-pale form raced out of the shadows. I bent down to catch him. Tremors shook his body. “What happened?”

  He wouldn’t look up as he continued to shake. A muffled whimper escaped the ball of skin in my arms. “Giguhl?” I jostled him until he looked up.

  I expected fear in his eyes. Instead, the damned cat smiled like a Cheshire and a braying giggle escaped his tiny mouth.

  Adam and I exchanged frowns. Either what he’d seen had been so shocking it drove him insane, or Mr. Kitty had some explainin’ to do.

  “Y-you guys aren’t gonna believe this shit,” he gasped.

  Adam shifted impatiently. “Are you going to tell us, or do we have to guess?”

  “Oh, you’d never guess this one.” More laughter.

  “Giguhl,” I snapped. “Pull it together. Did you see any vamps?”

  The cat made a valiant effort to get his amusement under control. Finally, he shook his head. “Nah. Mac’s source was totally wrong about that. This is even better than bloodsuckers.”

  “Well?” Adam and I both shouted.

  “C’mon, you’ve got to see it to believe it.”

  The demon jumped down and ran off, looking back over his shoulder every now and then to make sure we were coming. Adam and I exchanged a leery glance.

  “Come on,” the cat hissed from the darkness.

  Left with no other option, Adam and I trudged after him. Even though Giguhl claimed there was nothing to worry about, I drew my gun. Adam, too, scanned every inch of the area for ambush. Finally, we pushed the creaking black gate open. When no silhouettes darkened the front windows, we crept inside. A flash of gray caught my eye as Giguhl rounded the corner of the house. I banked right and ducked under branches to reach the side of the house.

  The music I’d heard earlier shook the house’s foundations. It was a shock to hear the harsh electronic notes of industrial music coming from a house that could have graced the cover of Southern Living magazine.

  When we finally reached Giguhl, he crouched on the wide stone sill of a window. “G,” I whispered. “Be careful.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said in a normal speaking voice. “These douchebags wouldn’t hear us if we arrived banging drums.”

  Frowning, I inched toward the rectangle of light in front of the window. Adam fell in next to me, his body tense. I leaned forward to peek around the edge and almost fell. Adam caught my arm. He might have shot me a curious look, but I was too busy trying not to piss myself.

  Just inside the window, the room opened into a large living and dining room combo with a wide staircase rising to the second floor. But the elegant Biedermeier backdrop paled in comparison to the foreground freakiness.

  The walnut dining room table served as a makeshift stage for a midg
et stripper. She wore a pink spangled bikini and teeny tiny Lucite stilettos. Her two fans wore artfully ripped heroin-chic ensembles. Between bong hits, their indolent hands flipped dollar bills in the air. A third guy—this one oddly Rockabilly among a gaggle of industrial scarecrows—snorted white lines from a mirror at the end of the table.

  Just beyond this charming tableau, three more members of the Lollipop Guild performed many and varied sex acts with a cluster of musician types on the antique furniture. On the periphery of the off-scale orgy, a man with spiky black hair surveyed the scene from a red Empire armchair. He wore dark aviators and took frequent, methodical pulls from a bottle of Jim Beam.

  I scooted in for a better look. “Am I hallucinating?”

  “Depends,” Adam began. “In your hallucination is the lead singer of Necrospank 5000 watching a midget give his drummer a golden shower?”

  My head swiveled toward him. “Huh?”

  Adam nodded toward the sunglasses guy. “That’s Erron Zorn.”

  “Who?” Giguhl’s pink nose smashed against the glass in front of his face.

  “Necrospank is a shock rock band. Erron Zorn is the lead singer. He’s also a mage.”

  I jerked in shock. “A mage? What’s he doing in New Orleans? Rhea and Orpheus called all the mages to court.”

  Adam shrugged. “He’s a recreant.”

  “What’s that?” Giguhl asked.

  “An outcast mage. They’re shunned by the Hekate Council.” The scorn in his voice indicated Adam’s opinion on recreants in general. He paused and hit me on the arm. “Oh, shit. Is that a gimp?”

  “Awesome,” Giguhl breathed with reverence. “This is way better than the Temptation Channel.”

  “Seriously,” I said. “Too bad we didn’t bring snacks.”

  We all went silent as one of the ladies mounted the gimp. He wore assless chaps and a zippered mask. The ball gag prevented any protests as the midget slapped at his haunches with a whip, like a miniature jockey. She urged him to turn and crawl toward the couch. The second his ass swung around, we got an unobstructed view of his—

  “Oh!” We all yelled in unison. I jumped away from the window, rubbing at my eyes as if I could erase the image burned into my retinas. But some things can never be unseen.

  Adam blew out a breath and swung his arms around like he was trying to shake them off. Even Giguhl looked a little green around the whiskers and refused to look in the window again.

  “All righty then,” I said. “So I think it’s safe to assume there’re no vampires here.”

  “After that I almost wish there had been,” Adam responded.

  A crash reverberated inside the house. “I think that’s our cue to leave,” I said, turning toward the gate. The three of us skulked back to the street with postures that could only be described as penitent. I’ll admit, the irony of our little trio of badasses being embarrassed by some kinky antics burned a bit.

  “We must never speak of this again,” Adam said.

  I nodded. “Agreed.”

  “I never thought I’d say this,” Giguhl said from Adam’s arms. “But what I just saw makes me never want to speak of sex again, period.”

  Adam and I stopped walking to shoot him “bullshit” looks.

  He sighed. “Okay maybe not never, but definitely not for the next five minutes.” He shuddered and snuggled against Adam’s chest.

  For the next couple of minutes, we quietly made our way back up the street toward the car. With each step, my horrified amusement over the midget porn gave way to darker musings. Yet again, I’d hit another dead end. I’d made so little progress in finding Maisie I was tempted to put the blame on Tanith’s door. It’d be so easy to just throw up my hands and believe she’d withheld some vital piece of information. Tempting, but unrealistic. Tanith had good reasons for wanting Lavinia dead, too. If she had information that would aid in that goal she would have told us, right? Which brought me right back to Sabina being a failure.

  Adam fell into step beside me, with Giguhl tucked in his elbow like a football. “Uh-oh,” he said. “You’ve got that look again.”

  Frowning, I looked at him. “Which one?”

  “The one you get when you’re blaming yourself for something.”

  I snorted. “I wasn’t aware I had a specific look for that.”

  “Sure you do,” Giguhl chimed in. “Your eyes get all squinty, and you get these lines between your eyebrows.”

  My hand flew up to the spot. Sure enough, a furrow had formed. I smoothed the skin and heaved a deep sigh. “I can’t help it. I’m getting nowhere fast.”

  “See, that’s the real problem,” Adam said. “You’ve got pronoun issues.”

  The furrow reappeared as I stared at him. “What?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” G said. “Unlike that freaky butcher, you only speak in the first person.”

  I frowned at the demon. “No I don’t.”

  “You just did,” Adam said with a small smile. He nudged me with his arm. “Come on, Red. It’s frustrating Mac’s lead didn’t pan out, but it’s not the end of the world or our only lead. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”

  “Right,” G said. “Go, Team Kickass!”

  Adam and I shot the demon bemused looks.

  “What? You like ‘Team Awesome’ better?”

  My lips twitched. “Definitely.”

  “Okay,” Adam said. “Now that we have that important matter out of the way, what’s next?”

  I took a deep breath and let the cool night air cleanse the last of the guilt. The breeze brought with it the perfume of entropy that clung to New Orleans like a tattered cape. The sharp scent of browning magnolia leaves, the dank richness of the soil, the heady musk of sex.

  Just as the air started to work its magic on me, the putrid scent of dirty pennies hit my nose like a sucker punch.

  I grabbed Adam’s arm to still his progress. My heart hammered behind my ribs. “Do you smell that?” I whispered.

  He shook his head. Not a surprise he couldn’t. I owed my keen sense of smell to my vampire genes.

  “Shit,” Giguhl said. I wasn’t sure if it was his feline sense of smell or his innate demon instincts that alerted him, but I was too busy trying to locate the source.

  “I can’t tell how many, but judging from the concentration of the scent, there’s several vamps nearby.”

  Adam tensed and searched the darkness. “Can you tell how close they are?”

  I shook my head. “No, but look alive.”

  He nodded and we started walking again, our eyes alert for signs of attack. We crossed the street and turned left toward the Gremlin squatting in front of a lichen-covered cemetery wall. The streetlight above shone down accusingly, like it was exposing an anachronism.

  One second, the path to the car was clear. The next, a wave of static was our only warning before eight vampires materialized in a circle around us. I did a quick survey. In addition to those, four more crouched on the cemetery wall. Eight males and four females total. Old, judging from the varying shades of deep red—not a strawberry among them. None held weapons in their hands, but a couple had visible blades ready to be drawn.

  Blood pumped fast with adrenaline through my veins. My gun appeared in my hand as if, instead of merely relying on instinct, I’d conjured it. Luckily, I’d reloaded it with fifteen apple-cider bullets before we’d headed out.

  “What the hell do you want?” I demanded. Next to me, Adam dropped Giguhl to the ground and tensed for action.

  I didn’t recognize any of the vamps. Not surprising, given we weren’t on my turf. But judging from their confident postures, we weren’t dealing with a garden-variety gang trolling for fast food.

  A pale vamp, with hair so darkly auburn it was almost black, stepped forward. “The favor of your company has been requested.”

  I wasn’t sure which part amused me more—his outdated mode of speech, or the stupid cape he wore like Count Effing Dracula. He even had a widow’s peak, for c
hrissakes. And the cane he leaned on was nothing more than an affectation.

  “And whom, might I ask, issued such a thoughtful invitation?” I asked.

  The Count tilted his head, as if I’d asked a stupid question. “Lavinia Kane.”

  My heart fluttered with anticipation. Now we were getting somewhere. I lifted a finger to my lip. “Hmm,” I said. “If I might make another suggestion.”

  His lips formed a courteous smile, and one glossy eyebrow rose in question.

  “How about you and your friends go fuck yourselves and we’ll call it a night?”

  The female who stood slightly behind him lurched forward with a snarl. She looked like something straight out of every sword-and-sorcery geek’s wet dream. The sides of her long maroon hair were pulled back to create a spiky half ponytail, while the rest fell in straight sheets down her back. Instead of a cape, she wore black leather pants and a leather-and-chain-mail bustier. I could only see the hilt from where I stood, but she also had a blade strapped to her back. It wasn’t one of those sleek Japanese jobbies, either. We’re talking full-on broadsword action.

  The Count held up a hand to stay her. Red Sonja complied immediately, but the daggers in her gaze told me she had plans for the sword that included me.

  The caped wonder clucked his tongue at me in reproach. “The Domina predicted you would scoff at her summons.” He nodded to his comrades, who started closing in like a noose. The metallic slide of blade against leather echoed as the female drew her sword. The Count followed suit, pulling his own steel from within his cane. “Which is why we’ve been instructed to kill the mage to ensure your full cooperation.”

  Screw that shit, my mind screamed. My response was a squeeze of the trigger.

  The Count’s pale hand shot up with preternatural speed. The bullet stopped midair and fell uselessly to the cracked sidewalk.

  Ignoring my shock over the unexpected magic use, I squeezed the trigger three more times in quick succession. Again with the hand wave. And again, three bullets hit the asphalt.

  The vamps surrounding us didn’t change expression. Not a smile or a laugh or a gloat among them. They just stood there like creepy statues, watching us with shark eyes.