Red Moon Demon (Demon Lord)

by Blayde, Morgan

  My gaze dropped to the top of the dais. Just under mecha-dragon’s head lay a crystal lotus that could fit in my palms. Normally, you’d expect a giant pearl. The lotus was unusual and its placement screamed that it was important. Ah, yes. The moon shapes are decoys. The lotus is the true catch.

  Putting my theory to the test, I reached out and gave it a quarter turn counterclockwise.

  There was a soft click. I looked down and saw that the drawer had popped open. The dragon hadn’t moved. I’d guessed right.

  I reached inside the drawer…

  And mecha-dragon lunged off the dais, picking me up with the power of his charge, slamming me back into the narrow passage and the door at its end. I hit the door with a loud thoom! The ice shield and the armor back plate shattered, hailing to the floor around me as I dropped to hands and knees. Separate from me, the broken ice was no longer shielded by my Dragon Wings magic. Of course, the sound of me crashing into the double doors had already betrayed me.

  There was no time to figure out what I’d done wrong. Mecha-dragon was at the opening of the narrow passage, peering in. His star-sapphire eyes spilled a radiant silver-blue. This was like being hit by halogen headlights on high beam. His jaws cracked open even wider, like he was planning on swallowing me whole. This shifted his eyes’ glare upward and let me see the inside of his throat frosting up. I had a second or two before being engulfed in the liquid hydrogen mist-breath of an ice dragon.

  I could have backed out the doors into the hallway, or switched my power from Dragon Wings to my defensive barrier, but some nameless instinct had me use my Dragon’s Voice. I didn’t call for Izumi, I called out to the dragon soul lodged inside the mechanical dragon. I wasn’t even sure what I said, except that it was in the oldest language of dragon kind, a phrase I’d heard Red Fang use once in drunken rage. Some kind of oath involving fire, ice, blood, and wind…

  With a clack, the dragon’s mouth clamped shut on the impending deluge. A little swirl of white mist escaped the nostrils, but that was all. Between me and the white jade dragon, a ghostly image formed of a true ice dragon. Mecha-dragon’s dragon soul was now awake … and curious. His phantom stare raked my body, lingering on the tats drawn with ink made from dragon blood.

  His thoughts touched mine. And what are you supposed to be?

  “Everyone keeps asking me that,” I said.

  Answer the question. Your life depends on it.

  There was only one way to have him respect me. I concentrated on all my tattoos, warming them up with a trickle of life force. The exposed ink on my torso and arms brightened from black to a dull red, then warmed to the color of fresh blood. This had the effect of wrapping me in a miasma of dragon magic; identification and threat all rolled into one.

  The ghost dragon sniffed. The earth magic of the Red Dragon Clan, but there’s something underneath. Show me your true power, not what you’ve borrowed.

  I stared. All my magic was borrowed, dragon blood blended into the ink of my tats. I had nothing else to show him.

  The dragon soul collapsed back into the mechanical dragon. Its mouth hinged open. I knew what was coming; ice breath. That left one option; kicking over the game table. I let all my tats go dormant, except for one: Dragon Flame. Saving nothing back, I let it all go out in one explosive blast, shoving fire down mecha-dragon’s throat, washing his scale, claws, and wings with the equivalent of a solar flare peeled off the sun.

  I couldn’t see the dragon very well in the flame I hurled. There was a blue-white billow between us as his breath vented my way, but it was absorbed in the fire stream, flung away from me. After a moment, it seemed as if his gold fangs were melting like ice. The jade scales blackened, scorching, and the silver wings lost shape evaporating. The mechanism retreated, as if sensing its death. My fire pursued. I had to stay close, keeping the hottest part of my flame on target.

  In the vault, my fire mushroomed, swirling out to wash the far walls, whipping itself up in a rush to the high ceiling. I poured even more fire into the attack, knowing if it became diluted, what was left of mecha-dragon might be enough to kill me in my exhausted, weaponless state. I looked down to see that I’d blazed away the rest of the ice armor. I stood naked against a threat stronger than any other I’d ever faced.

  Mental note: don’t do this again.

  My fire was falling in on me, the outer edges thinning to nothing. Furthermore, warm blood was climbing up my legs to my knees; melt off from the blood ice in here.

  I got a good look at the mechanical dragon. Its wings were stumpy, twisted strands of silver slag. The jade had blackened, fusing in places, cracking and pitted elsewhere. Its eyes were unchanged, but the gold claws and teeth were gone. Still, the machine was at least a couple tons of enraged killing fury. It waded into the dwindling spray of my fire.

  I all but felt death breathing down my neck, his bony hand on my shoulder, whispering of the delights of eternity.

  Hell, no, I’m not ready to go.

  Some unknown door deep in my spirit swung open a crack, and new magic filled me like nothing I’d ever known. My flame still condensed, but it grew hotter than ever. The red of blood-flame turned an eye-searing gold. The blood under it bubbled and steamed.

  Mecha-dragon was slammed back onto his dais, his body superheating from solid directly to a gaseous state. Sweat poured down me in slick sheets. A feeble flicker, my protective barrier tried to come on to save me from my own power. The dragon sculpture melted into the blood. The top of the dais burst into flame, releasing an oily black smoke that made me choke.

  And suddenly, the dragon soul was back, free with no body to anchor it. He cried out; Enough, I yield!

  Good thing too, my solar flare snapped out, leaving me an aching tiredness that went deep inside my bones. My vision blurred and a roar filled my head. I sank to my knees, doubting I’d be getting up any time soon.

  The spirit hung near me, reproach in its eyes but gratitude as well since I’d broken the ice queen’s hold over it. He said; You should have just told me who you were, Halfling. Had I known, not even the queen’s geas could have prevented me from aiding you. Now you’ve wasted both our strength.

  His words were a riddle I couldn’t fathom. Who I am? And what the hell was with that fire spell going gold on me? Thinking hurt my head, so I shelved the mystery for another time.

  He began to fade, shifting out of this reality, leaving me with a final thought: I am Wyrmmfrey of the Ice Clan. Call on me seven times, and this debt will be paid.

  I grinned. “Good to know.”

  But he didn’t hear me, having returned to Earth. I wished I was there too, in a bar somewhere, a large frosty mug of beer in my hands.

  The chamber had to be well warded. Our ruckus hadn’t drawn any attention. Not even the massive out pouring of magical energy. My luck wasn’t totally bad. I half crawled, half swam over to the flaming dais. The open drawer in its side had filled with blood. I plunged my hand inside and felt around. I no longer had the strength to power my Dragon Sight, but I had to believe there was something in the drawer to justify all this effort.

  My hand thrashed inside, making the warm blood frothy. The iron scent was thick and cloying. The drawer was empty except for my hand. I drew it out and cursed softly under my breath for several long minutes.

  My baleful stare raked the crystal lotus. It had undergone a transformation, stripped of its glamour. The thing was no longer clear crystal but as red as the blood I was squatting in. I reached out to touch it.

  And the world went away in a crimson burst of cold light that stole all my senses. The red wash dimmed and I dropped into a lightless abyss.

  TWENTY

  “Never stop your enemies

  from screwing themselves over.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  A kick to the ribs woke me up. Someone stood over me, getting ready for another kick. Forcing my eyes to work, I recognized Izumi. “You can stop now,” I said.

  The high cathedral ceiling
and the surrounding walls were winter blue now, no longer red. For that matter, falling down, I should have drowned in the melted blood. There wasn’t a bit of it on my clothes. And didn’t the space seem a little bigger?

  I got on hands and knees, ready to force myself to my feet.

  Izumi kicked me in the stomach.

  Seeing it on the way in, I hardened my abs, but it still hurt. “Here you are, having fun without me, almost getting yourself killed, destroying the vault and one of our greatest treasures, with no thought to how I’m tearing my heart out with worry over you.”

  “It’s been an hour already?” I asked.

  She pulled back for another kick, but stopped herself from following through. “What happened? Did you find the relic?”

  “Oh, yeah, the crystal lotus…” I looked around for it. Nothing. I frowned. “That’s funny; it ought to be right here.”

  “It is.” Izumi pointed at the inside of my right forearm.

  I stared at a new tattoo: a crystal-blue lotus combined with a purple dragon. The whole thing was four by five inches. It hadn’t come the usual way. There was no pain, no reddened skin I’d need to keep lotion on, and a bandage, while it healed. It might have been simple skin art except for the throb of dormant power in the ink. I think it had absorbed all the dragon blood in the room—waste not, want not.

  “What the hell…” I said.

  “Looks good on you,” Izumi said, “but mother will be pissed.”

  “Then let’s not tell her.” I climbed to my feet, shivering from the cold. I activated my Dragon Flame, barely waking the tat up. A brief burst of pain went through me, like my spine had snapped like a whip. The pain went away, replaced by the magic I had bought; a warm haze that flushed through my muscles, blood and organs, loosening the stiffness that had come from sleeping on ice.

  “A warning about the lotus,” Izumi said. “Using it requires a special price. Until I’ve explained it properly, keep it dormant.”

  “Why, what does it do?”

  “It gives you access to a pocket dimension where She has retired from the worlds of men and fey.”

  “She?”

  “King Arthur called her the Lady of the Lake. The Japanese know her as Kagomi, Princess of the moon. One of her children was the first of all vampires. We fey talk of being Under-the-Hill. She is Under-the-Hill, the Red Lady who defies even the Wilde Hunt.

  I stared at her. “And your mom stole a relic from her, binding it to a murdered dragon’s soul in a chamber shielded by dragon blood? How many wars does she want to start? Is she crazy?”

  Izumi looked at me like I was crazy. “All fey are insane. It’s a matter of degree. You don’t get to rule a Court of Faire without being an extreme personality. Speaking of which, we need to get out of here. She’s bound to call for our presence soon.”

  “All right then,” I sighed, “Ice me up again, then go back to your room and wait.”

  “We got what you needed. Why not just go?”

  “And have your people come after me for taking the relic? No,” I pointed at the melted sculpture on the burned dais, “we need someone to pin this on. And there’s the matter of your prospective husband to deal with. Just a minute.” I returned to the labyrinth of treasure and found a particular trinket, a rare, old necklace with a blue stone that reeked of fey magic. Just holding it in my hand caused a drop in my own energy, causing my invisible magic shield to flicker on and caress my skin.

  I returned to Izumi and let her do her thing. Mostly encased in ice, I left her and went back into the outer hall. Several twists and turns and a staircase later, I reached the main floor, looking for my next target.

  Various guards milled in the great chamber. They were agitated, falling back to line the walls. I didn’t have to seek out Aybran. He and the queen were strolling towards me. I moved out of their way. Along with the rest of the guards, I bowed in respect as the queen passed. For a second, Kellyn’s gaze scraped across my visor. I felt the cold stab of her power and an unaccustomed flutter of fear in my stomach. I wondered if she knew me beneath the ice. The edgy dread went away as she climbed the stairs I’d just come down. Aybran lagged a couple paces behind her, veering now and then to jostle guards, hoping to provoke a fight for entertainment value. Frost Giants were like that.

  As Aybran passed me, I dropped the stolen necklace in his pocket. Proud and intimidating, he put out so much magic he didn’t notice the extra bit he’d acquired.

  Idiot, everyone knows never to let your own power mask what’s around you. You’re king’s heir by name and fear only. A squirrel has more brains.

  After a moment, I followed them back up. Aybran started talking, his voice booming but slurred as if he’d drunk too much wine. I couldn’t make out what he was saying; probably not anything important, not any more.

  As soon as I could, I broke off and used a variation of my Dragon Voice, a carrying whisper, to call Izumi. The price for the magic felt like someone was bathing me in hydrochloric acid—and drying me off with sandpaper.

  Izumi pulled me to her, to the curtained alcove with its shelf bed and abundance of pillows. She was naked, eyes like diamonds, coldly ablaze with desire. The lust I felt diverted me from the fading pain. At her touch, the ice armor I wore softly shattered. She tugged me closer. I fell, pinning her down, flattening her ample breasts between us.

  I whispered, “Your mom’s on the way here with Aybran.”

  She smiled with deep joy. “Perfect. This is just how I want them to find us.”

  I shrugged.

  She shifted to settle me more comfortably between her legs. Her hands cupped my ass, squeezing as she gnawed my neck hungrily.

  I felt myself getting excited, and whispered, “Any chance your mom might want to join in?”

  She bit my neck harder and pulled her head back to stare into my eyes. “Ass!”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  She shook her head. “No, I mean; get it moving. How long are you going to keep a lady waiting?”

  “We don’t have time to do this right, so let it wait. We just have to make it look good for your mom.”

  She looked at me. “Seriously?”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

  She tangled her legs with mine, and rested her head against my chest as if listening for my heart. “Okay,” she said. “Later.”

  Lying on my side, I held her, brushing her hair back from her face. Her fingers scraped down my torso, tracing a line across my hip that left a small slick of frost. Her hand stopped on my thigh. Her face lifted and her eyes opened, staring into mine. “You’re very good at making love, Caine, but can you love? Really. After being raised as a demon, how much human is left in you?”

  “Old Man would say ‘too much.’ Me, I don’t look for answers that I don’t really want to know.”

  Her face sank and returned to my chest. “You know, whenever I feel like wallowing in self-pity, I think of your situation, and start counting my blessings.”

  “Hey! I like my life.”

  She laughed, but the sound had an empty ache to it. “I know. And that’s … so sad.”

  The curtains parted and we suddenly had an audience. I rolled over and looked straight at Izumi’s mom. “It’s not what you think. Okay, so it is what you think. How about a little privacy? I still have one more orifice to go.”

  There was a thunderous growl from behind the queen as the frost giant scrunched down to peer over her shoulder. She spun on him, pointed a royal finger in command. “Stay, I’ll deal with this.” She drew the curtains shut, and approached the bed. Kellyn’s face went from livid to shocked as she saw the size of my equipment. “Winter’s Heart! What are you, part centaur? Never mind. Put it away and get dressed. There are matters of state to attend to.”

  “Are you sure you couldn’t give me another twenty minutes?” I asked.

  She held out her hand, closing it on thin air. A sword of ice formed. She swung the tip. It caught me und
er the jaw, lifting my face, more than implying a threat. “I am not one you ever want to keep waiting.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  She withdrew the sword, willing it to shatter and fall, adding to the ice on the floor. I slid off the shelf and moved to where my clothes and weapons were piled. Keeping my new tattoo turned from her view, I dressed.

  As Izumi roused herself, sitting up, Kellyn turned to her. “Are you trying to break my plans by outraging your betrothed husband?”

  Izumi swung her feet off the shelf, leaning toward her mom, diamond eyes hard and cold. “You’re trying to get rid of me through marriage to a piece of frozen crap. Why should I care about you?”

  I liked the way her boobs bounced as she said that.

  Kellyn slapped her daughter across the mouth. The queen’s voice lost all trace of warmth, cutting like a blizzard. “I have never spared myself from the demands of duty. You shame our family, asking me to spare you. Get dressed, and pray I need not kill your well-endowed friend to appease Aybran.” She shot my cock another look as I slowly zippered up.

  Dressed, we filed out of the alcove. Aybran waited, a killing rage dominating his face. His whale blubber stench in close quarters was less than enjoyable. Kellyn waved the guards from the room. They seemed especially glad to escape from the drama about to unfold. Kellyn pushed the giant toward a seat. “Sit, and try not to break the chair.” Planting fists on hips, she glanced at all of us. “We need to come to an understanding here. Aybran, after all this, do you still want my daughter?”

  He looked at her, hunger and viciousness mingled in his expression. “Oh, yes.”

  The queen nodded. “Then the wedding will continue as planned.”