Red Moon Demon (Demon Lord)

by Blayde, Morgan

  She stared down at me much the way the trapdoor bug had done.

  “Am I on the menu?” My words seemed loud to me in this quiet pocket where the dust no longer scraped and hissed.

  Her full lips parted, daubed a moment by the tip of her tongue. She said, “Do you want to be?”

  English, great! But wait a second. Did she already know it, or did she just pull the knowledge straight out of my head?

  “Straight out of your head,” she said.

  “That’s fine,” I said, “but you don’t want to rummage around in there too much. You might get scared.”

  “Scared?” Her voice verged on laughter. “I am a goddess.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I slowly pushed myself off the ground, rechambering my bayonets. I scanned our surroundings, hoping I’d beaten Salem here. The lady and I stood near the edge of an obsidian jungle. Broad palms, dangling orchids and vines, cross-hatched boles of trees; they all looked like they’d been carved from volcanic glass by a master craftsman. I heard the murmur of a small waterfall not too far away.

  Her gaze caressed my holstered weapons. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “Hell, yes! I’m not stupid.”

  Her well-formed body—only a tiny hint of her true essence—was a severe temptation I needed to fight. This lady had formed this dimension with a stray thought. Such powers hadn’t walked the earth since the dawn of civilization. Her awareness of me posed a worse threat than the warlock I hunted. Speaking of which…

  “There’s another guy on the way here. I intend to cut his heart out by any means possible. I hope you don’t have a problem with that.”

  She began circling me, studying every inch. “And if I did?”

  “I’d do it anyway,” I said.

  “Even though you’re afraid of me.” She came around in front again.

  “I need to sacrifice a soul to get out of here and go home. I had that explained to me. As for you, well, you may be a goddess but I figure I’ve got a fighting chance at fucking you into submission.”

  Holding still in front of me once more, she considered my words, arching an eyebrow. “Really?”

  I looked around in an obvious manner. “I don’t see a long line of suitors anywhere. Sure, you could dream up some guy, but he’ll only be as good as your imagination and experience. In this one area, I surpass you.” I gave her my best dead, flat stare to let her know I wasn’t joking.

  She stared through my head, her focus a light-year away. A small smile appeared. “You really believe you’re that good? I’m tempted to prove you right or wrong. Too bad you’re out of time.”

  “I am?”

  Her hand lifted. She pointed at the sweeping, red-mist curtain behind me.

  I turned.

  And Salem was there, stepping into the eye of the storm with grace that made me hate him even more. His spiky blond hair was full of red dust, making him a redhead. Artificial intelligence, I thought. He had a shirt sleeve in tatters. The exposed arm bore shallow claw marks. His torso was splattered with yellow-green ichor. He glowered at me, face tight with rage. Gripping the necklace mechanism in his right fist, his knuckles whites, he stomped toward me, barely glancing at the scantily-clad woman beside me.

  The guy really is gay.

  I looked her in the face, noticing a bit of irritation there. Goddesses don’t usually like being ignored.

  He stuck a finger in my face. “The only reason I’m not shoving lightning up your ass, Caine, is that the necklace can’t seem to get me back to Earth from here. You’re going to open the way back for me, and in exchange, I’ll make sure you don’t suffer—too much—as you die.”

  I looked at the Red Lady, and pointed at my crotch. “Letting me die would be a terrible waste, don’t you think? He’s not going to want to do you.”

  Salem gave her a hard stare, then looked back at me. “You seem to have a gift for finding whores, Caine. You’re right, she’s not my type.”

  I smiled. This was not going to work out well for Salem.

  “She’s a lady,” I said. “Be respectful.”

  “Respect this.” He raised the necklace toward the Red Lady. Hazy blue fire spurted between his fingers. Mystic energy shimmered back along his arm.

  Her eyes opened wide. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “I dare all,” he said

  The energy wove into a shaft of smoke-blue light. The fire struck the Red Lady, lifting her off her feet, slamming her back.

  I winced in sympathy.

  Her clothed flesh dissolved where the light had hit, releasing a swirl of fiery red-gold motes to trail in the air. She hit the ground and raised a plume of dust sliding to the edge of the obsidian jungle. Black shards showered her as a hollow tree trunk shattered against her head and shoulders. The bole toppled and crashed to the ground, where it finished bursting.

  Salem turned the amulet my way.

  Hitting the releases on my arms brought out the bayonets. I stabbed at him.

  His own version of a personal shield snapped on, saving him from a punctured lung. Though my attack fell short, I kept the pressure on. I don’t think he can fire a blast without dropping his shield. I figured I only needed to tie Salem up for a few seconds.

  I was proven right when the Red Lady materialized between us, unmarked by the violence she’d just absorbed. Her raised hand froze my bayonets midair. I relaxed and didn’t resist her, as if I could. She faced Salem and shoved her hand through his protective barrier as if it were a haze of cigarette smoke. She gripped his throat and lifted him off his feet, standard tough guy pose. His body swung against hers. He choked and pried at her gripping hand. When that did nothing, he pointed the necklace at her a second time.

  Yeah, because that went so well last time.

  THIRTY-THREE

  “It’s usually a bad idea to piss

  in your own Corn Flakes.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  The stone in Salem’s hand clattered through a change, taking on a Y shape, one prong pointing at the Red Lady’s face. It spat green phosphorescence that settled over her. Her skin blackened, bubbling, steaming, and peeled away from the raw red muscle underneath. She grimaced with agony, baring her teeth in an animal reaction, but never loosened the death-grip she had on his throat.

  Her face shimmered red and the radiance burned away the acid fog around her. The same ruddy glow melted away the damage to her flesh, restoring her beauty. Through gritted teeth, she said, “Keep that up and I will never let you die—no matter how loudly you beg.”

  A real bitch. Just my kind of woman.

  With an effort, as if fighting against part of herself, she loosened her grip so Salem could breathe once more. But at the same time, a creamy green vine sprang from her touch, winding around his upper torso, working its way down his body, spiraling around his limbs. Along with waxy white leaves, the vine sprouted inch-long nettles that spiked into his body and made a leafy green porcupine out of him.

  Pierced and constricted, he gasped, biting off a curse. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his fingers lost their hold on the necklace. It dropped from a flailing, claw-like hand as he shuddered.

  I tore my gaze from the necklace as if it were of no importance to me. Keeping still, I willed myself to fade into the background. I’m not here. I’m not here. Just ignore me, and the necklace. Take Salem, and go have fun with him.

  As if responding to my thoughts, she let go of his throat and turned away. Salem dropped to his feet but didn’t topple over. The vines formed a kind of exoskeleton with a mind of its own. They held him upright and moved his legs for him so he wobbled after the Red Lady. The shards from the broken tree melted as she reached the edge of the jungle.

  The waterfall sound died. The crystal growths dissolved into roiling smoke that took on mauve and orange streaks. The entire jungle wavered like a heat mirage and reformed into a red rock canyon with its stark planes softened by dusty-mauve creepers. The canyon bent away from her
in the middle, a bright blue pond at its base. A new boulder to my left sported a three-foot lizard with blue-green jeweled skin. An incredibly long tongue swung out past needle teeth as it liked the moisture from its own eyeball.

  I lifted my head. An ornate palace crowned the cliff. The sky was now a dusky purple, but the earth was still there in the sky. Many more stars burned through. Green stars. Green stars weren’t supposed to be possible, something about the colors of different temperatures. I shrugged. Her universe. She could make the stars any color she wanted.

  I bent, snatched up the necklace, and stashed it in the gaping front of my zombie apocalypse suit, on the opposite side from the crystal lotus. Mental note: add backpack to suit.

  The Red Lady stepped out onto the water. It lovingly cradled her feet, refusing to let her sink. Petite ripples ringed each step as she moved toward the canyon face. Salem, a marionette now, marched in her wake.

  I turned to go the opposite direction—thinking I’d come back for Salem later—when…

  She called out, “Uh-uhh, you come too. I don’t get guests so often I can afford to let one slip away.”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’ve got nothing better to do anyway.”

  By the time I’d sauntered to the water’s edge, she’d reached the far end, and Salem was halfway across. The water supported him, so I stepped out. I went carefully, the surface like squishy sponges that jiggled underfoot. Weird.

  Moon pale, dark green haired, a mermaid skimmed past me just under the water, flashing piranha teeth. Her tail flicked, breaking the surface. With a burst of speed, she angled down, fading into the cloudy blue depths. On the surface, the water was the size of a pond, but I suspected it was also impossibly deep.

  I wondered if the bug creatures and merfolk were pieces of the Red Lady’s dreams, or what she’d made of previous visitors once she tired of them.

  A staircase rose from the rock at the lady’s feet. There were no side walls or rails. Heights didn’t seem to bother her as she ascended. The stairs zigzagged up into the canyon wall where a dark tunnel opened like a monster mouth. She went through, and Salem started up the stairs after her. Dripping blood, he no longer fought his restraints. I think he was afraid of pitching off the stairs and breaking things he’d need to depend upon later. I imagined that, even with broken arms and legs, the vines would march him wherever the Red Lady wanted him to go.

  I let him get nearly to the top before I started up behind him. I considered turning tail and running, but knew it was useless. She was absolute in her private little universe. Once she missed me, the entire world would respond to her will, driving me back into her arms. So far, I was spared her malicious attention. I wanted to keep it that way.

  Salem vanished into the tunnel. I reached its huge, non-slavering maw, and discovered that what I’d thought were teeth was actually a portcullis. I passed under it and the medieval grating dropped to seal me in with a loud chung that reverberated loudly. The Red Lady had made her point; I’d go when she was ready, not before.

  I promised myself that if I ever got out of here, I’d never come back.

  The tunnel wound lazily around several murky blue pools. Several foot-long toads squatted at the edge of the water. They were bright green with mustard yellow eyes. They called out as I passed, “Guh-riip guh-riip!”

  “Same to you,” I said.

  The walls started out as red rock, but quickly blended into a red quartz surface. A smooth path appeared under my feet, milky glass with a hint of blue. Vents in the ceiling allowed shafts of Earthlight to filter in and lessen the gloom, and gray-green lichen on the stalactites excreted a fragile radiance, tinting the shadow a hunter green.

  As I went, there were side pockets where giant boulders had been split open to reveal the gemmed hearts of geodes. These lay at the base of spiky, red quartz blooms. Earth blue moths fluttered around one such inorganic flower.

  I saw an opening ahead, spilling in a pinkish froth of light. Just two pools of water remained. I came between them when a sea dragon arched from one pool and vanished into the other. About forty feet of rippling aqua blue and sea-foam green with translucent gold fins and flippers, it gave no notice of me. This wasn’t a reaction I’d gotten from dragons in the past, especially with the dragon blood tats I wore on my skin. This might not be a real dragon at all. Possibly only a figment of the Red Lady’s imagination given life.

  Like a woman putting on her most pleasing face for a male, the Red Lady was trying to dazzle me with her power and the beauty of its expression. That implied vanity, a weakness I could exploit. I smiled to myself, continuing on.

  I left the tunnel for a courtyard the size of a football stadium. Underfoot, red octagonal bricks surrounding square ones, sweeping on to a massive hall with towers and flying buttresses. Narrow, red paned windows were everywhere. Black gargoyles were ranked on the edge of the hall’s roof, staring down at me with interest. Their eyes were vermillion stars. One of them fanned great, ribbed wings as if he wanted to swoop down and crush me with his glossy jet limbs. The adjoining gargoyles stared at him and he settled down, folding wings, becoming just another statue.

  The Red Lady and Salem had drawn closer together, and both were way ahead of me. They took a flight of stairs from the courtyard, and passed through open double doors that had to be fifty feet high. They were black oak, banded with black iron, adorned with the same type of hinges. The circular knockers were spiraled like rope. There were no guards at the entrance, another sign of her power; only the weak required protectors.

  I was impressed even though I was trying very hard not to be.

  I crossed the courtyard and climbed the stairs.

  My magical barrier self-activated, my tat burning to life like a sonofabitch. Damn, the pain for magic was back. Me magic seemed to have acclimated to this strange dimension.

  Something wet and gold sprinkled against my shield and slid down its bell to the stonework. The stone steamed and foamed a little. Acid rain? I looked up and saw a gargoyle standing, shaking his manhood. Gargoyle piss. I saluted him cheerily. Better luck next time.

  Inside the Great Hall, I was reminded of a soaring cathedral, but there were no pews. The red-stained window let thin shafts of crimson slice the gloom. Iron braziers lining the walls held red coals. A red carpet lay underfoot. I felt like I was walking on blood as I headed for the distant dais were a jet throne waited with matching plump, red-tasseled pillows. The Red Lady stood on the dais, waiting. Forced to kneel—and bleed—Salem was several steps down from her.

  The lady held out her hand to me, and a rich red-velvet gown misted onto her. Like a bloody cataracts, her hair now fell to her heels. Her sleeves were short and puffy, and a red copper armlet wound down to her wrist like a serpent. As I got closer, I could see engraved scales. Its wedge-shaped head was lifted from her skin, its mouth closed, garnets glinting for eyes. Her palm was turned up, fingers pointing down, an invitation—to what exactly, I wasn’t sure.

  I stopped several feet back from Salem. He was panting and groaning, his face and hair damp with sweat. He tried to turn his head my way, and failing as the vines caged it too. “Get us out of here,” he growled. “I’ll pay you, anything.”

  My hand pressed the outside of my suit. I felt the lump of the necklace under the material. “I have everything I need,” I said, “except for your death.”

  He cursed me, until the vines choked him into silence.

  I moved past him to the dais, looking up. “Hell of a show, I must say.” I pointed at the throne. “Is that for me?”

  She stared. Throwing back her head, she laughed, a sound like a great shivering bell heard across a distance. “Oh, your arrogance surpasses even my own, and I have reason for it.”

  “It’s just that I’m a little tired. I was hoping I could sit down.”

  She turned toward her throne and waved. The floor buckled up beside her throne, forming another, one slightly smaller and less grand than her own. Well, it was better than a foo
tstool. I took the steps, walked past her to the new throne, and sat down. I stared at her. “I swear, if a talking lion pops up and calls me a Son of Adam, I’m going to borrow a sword and hack his head off.”

  She murmured, “My, you are ferocious, aren’t you?”

  “Lady, when I was born and the doctor slapped my ass, I bit his thumb. I didn’t have a tooth in my head, but they needed two orderlies and a crowbar to pry me off him. You got anything around here to drink?”

  “What would you like?”

  “Rum and coke.”

  Looking puzzled, she stared into my head. I felt fingers plucking at my thoughts. Her confusion cleared. “Ah, yes, here you are, my pet.”

  I’ve got something you can pet.

  A goblet ghosted into view in front of me. Carved from brown jade, it hovered, waiting to be snagged outta thin air. I reached out, pulled it in, and set the cup against my lips, but didn’t drink, remembering all the stories about the dangers of eating fairy food and such. I wet my lips, and set the cup down on the arm of my chair. After getting drunk on dwarf beer, Rip van Winkle had slept for twenty years. I wasn’t taking chances.

  Staring across the hall, I noticed we had a standing audience of deep-red, translucent shadows, make-believe people with rose zircon eyes shading into deeper reds. Their clothes were shadow as well, a style out of the renaissance. Armored shadows guarded the entrance now, armed with halberds.

  I studied at Salem but spoke to the Red Lady. “What’s going on, a public execution?”

  “Why, yes. To be followed by a wedding.” She sat on the throne beside me, a bright smile in place. A jeweled tiara appeared on her head, holding a gauzy veil in place over her eyes. “I haven’t had one in five-hundred years. And then comes the wedding night.” Her voice dipped to a chaste whisper. “You will have a chance to live up to your boasts. I am expecting a lot out of you.” Her smile turned hard and threatening, yet teasing as well. “You had best hope I am not disappointed.”