I loosened the collar of my battle suit, swallowing. “Man, talk about working under pressure.”
An executioner appeared, a big fellow with leather pants, boots, no shirt, a hairy paunch, and a black hood over his head with eye holes so he could see. He hefted a massive battle ax with one brawny arm, using the weapon to sketch a salute to the Red Queen next to me.
She gestured imperiously at Salem. “Off with his head!”
THIRTY-FOUR
“When confronted with a dire
situation it’s best to ‘drink’ it over!”
—Caine Deathwalker
“No way!” I said. “He’s my arch-nemesis. If anyone’s going to kill him, it will be me.”
Salem glared from the foot of the dais where the vines forced him to kneel. He said, “You can kill me, but you didn’t beat me. You’ll never have that.”
I pushed myself off of the throne, and studied him thoughtfully as I walked forward, stepping down to his level.
The executioner glowered at me for interfering with his work.
I held out my hand.
He visibly restrained himself from biting my fingers. Instead, he handed over the ax, and stormed off. I set the head of the battle ax on the floor, leaning on the shaft as I bent forward to look him in the eye. “You have a point, but I hope you don’t intend to appeal to my sense of fair play for a chance at life.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” he said.
“As long as we’re talking, I’d like to know something.”
“What?”
“You were throwing around all kinds of power, back in L.A. You were even managing multiple spells simultaneously, and not paying any kind of a cost to do it that I could see. Were you powering the necklace with the men you killed?”
I didn’t know if he’d tell me anything. Spite sometimes wins out against the arrogant desire to boast. In the end, he couldn’t resist rubbing my nose in his brilliance. He smiled. “I’m not surprised you couldn’t figure it out. The necklace attunes itself to whoever uses it, obeying whatever commands they know enough to give. I widened that attunement to overlap with entropy itself.”
“Ah, that is smart.” Stupid, I mean. He’d powered the necklace through necromancy, feeding it from the slow death of the universe we’d left behind.
The Red Lady called from her throne, “Getting bored here. Can we move things along?”
Salem surreptitiously strained against the vines, seeking a weak spot, even though this drove the thorns deeper into his flesh. I knew if he could break free he’d try at once to snatch the necklace; going intangible as he had back on at the skyscraper was the only chance he had to escape the Red Lady.
Maybe my only chance also.
Problem was, I wasn’t a magic-user in the traditional sense. My dragon-blood tats were a shortcut, a way of handling power without having to thoroughly understand it, leaping years of training. The drawback was it might take me years to bend the relic to my will. Haruka couldn’t wait that long. As skilled as Salem was, I knew he could answer questions I hadn’t even thought of yet. This caused me to reconsider killing him—for now.
I had an idea.
I said, “I am willing to spare your life, on one condition.”
The Red Lady said, “Is anyone listening to me? I want him dead. No one is allowed to survive who is indifferent to my beauty.”
“What’s your condition?” Salem asked.
“You must swear a binding oath of fealty to me.”
“Is that all? Sure,” he said, “now let me go.”
The Red Lady’s voice took on an edge of threat, “Caine...”
I ignored her. “A binding oath,” I said. “Here, where such an oath cannot be broken, swear it in the name of the Red
Lady,”
Salem stared over my shoulder. I somehow knew that she was right behind me, her eyes radiant with murderous intent.
“Give me the ax,” she said. “I’ll do it myself.”
Yeah, thought so. I straightened and turned, meeting her gaze. “You’re making a mistake here.”
“I’m a goddess. I don’t make mistakes, at least none I have to live with.” She held out her hand for the weapon.
She was a goddess. That meant she could have materialized another ax for herself instantly. What was going on here wasn’t about Salem, but her and me. She was staking her claim as the dominant partner in a very new relationship—that existed only in her head. Problem was, what’s in the head of a goddess can wind up becoming painfully real. I needed to win this contest of wills. I also desperately need a drink.
“Listen,” I said, “if you want this…” I almost choked, “marriage to mean anything, it’s got to be done right. In my reality, there can be no marriage without certain formalities. One of these is the bachelor party. Also, a best man is usually required for the wedding ceremony. Can’t we do this without cheap theatrics?” I reached out and slid my hand up her arm, then suddenly yanked her closer, crushing her against my chest. I let the ax fall over, and held her, peering soulfully into her eyes. “You’re going to make me think I mean nothing to you.” My lips drew closer to hers.
She’d resisted my hold at first. I felt ghostly fingers stirring through my thoughts. She was checking to see if I was lying to her. Fortunately, nothing I’d said was untrue. I’d never claimed to want to marry her, I’d just told her the customs of my people.
Her body softened, melting against mine as a new kind of fire kindled in her eyes. Her hand caressed my cheek, and slid to the back of my neck as she closed the distance, kissing me roughly, a lot of energy but little finesse. For a goddess, she was terribly inexperienced. Of course, there aren’t a lot of suitors at her power level. Guys like to be in control; there’s little chance of that with her.
Well, there’s something to be said for a challenge.
Her arms went around my neck. The kiss went on forever, until I was desperate to escape. She might not need to breathe, but I was fond of doing so. My hands slid down her body, behind her—and purely in self-defense—I squeezed her ass, startling her into releasing me so I could gasp for air.
She saw my discomfort and reddened in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s all right,” I assured her. “We’ll get better with practice. Now, about the warlock…”
“Take it, if you have to have it.”
I gathered in one of her hands and kissed it. “Thank you.”
She smiled coyly, batting her eyes at me. “I have a lot more for you, after the wedding. I can be a virgin as many times as you’d like.”
A thrill went through me. My gaze slid down her body, imagining her dress away. The thought of a woman that could change her form for me, being anyone, anything, was sorely tempting, but not even a goddess is worth enduring the trap that is marriage. I smiled wistfully and told her a truth. “There are so many things I want to do to you…”
She blushed.
I released her hand. “Do me a favor and stop reading my mind. I want to surprise you with my passion and expertise. Let me surprise you. Be a beautiful bride in my arms, and nothing else. You have forever to be a goddess.”
She pressed her hand to her bodice, as if to gage the thunder of her heart. “Very well, it is a small enough gift to give, but I want something in exchange.”
“What?”
“I’ve seen in your mind that your people have a custom. You give a diamond as a token of love to those you’d claim as wife.”
“I don’t have one,” I said.
Her hand moved out from her heart a little. My shirt went lax as the crystal lotus disappeared from my suit. The lotus reappeared between her hand and breasts. “This will do.”
With that, she turned and walked toward a distant, heavily gilded side door. Without her attention, the spectral audience that had silently attended us all this time melted to nothing. Almost out of the room, she paused and called back to me. “I know your heart is sincere, but I should
warn you; do not try to leave the palace without me. The gargoyles on the roof are fools that once trifled with my emotions. And they were bad in bed besides. Since you are my new favorite, they hate every fiber of your being. I’d hate it if you were torn apart … before you’ve proven your mettle on our wedding night.”
She went out the door. It closed by itself behind her, and I was left alone with Salem.
Dripping blood from dozens of wounds, he looked up at me. “And I thought I had it bad.”
“You’re stuck here too,” I said. “Are we going to work together, or am I going to toss you outside to play with the former boy toys?”
“All right, I’ll work with you.”
“Swear it by the Red Lady.”
“I swear by her name to serve your best interests, until we escape this reality. Then, your ass is mine.”
“I’m not gay,” I said.
“Figure of speech.”
There was a mounting pressure; a sizzling vibration in the air that drew a sympathetic heat from my tats.
Salem’s eyes widened. He felt it too. “What the hell is that,” he asked.
“You made an oath in the Lady’s name. This is her reality; it has witnessed your oath. Break your word and her world will crush you.”
“You’re joking?”
I flashed him one of my evil grins. “One way to find out.”
Maybe later,” he said. “Cut me outta this ambulating salad.”
I raised a boot high enough to reach into the top, and drew my field knife from its hidden sheath. A whisper in the back of my mind urged me to sink the blade into his black heart. I resisted the impulse and slid the steel between him and the vines. Strands of the thorny growth snapped on the knife edge, and all of it withered, falling away as dust.
“Well, that’s easy enough,” I said.
He straightened, and his hand moved a few inches toward the necklace inside my combat suit.
“Go ahead,” I said, “betray me. I dare you. I’m kind of curious as to what will happen.”
He stepped back from me.
“Smart,” I said.
“Speaking of smart, now that we’re alone, and she’s not reading your mind, why don’t you open the gate that brought us here?”
I drifted back up the dais, and crossed to the bigger throne. I threw myself into an inelegant sprawl and looked at him. I lifted my feet into the air. A moment later, an ottoman appeared under my boots. I relaxed, my feet comfortably elevated. “Just because she isn’t reading my thoughts doesn’t mean she’s not keeping an eye on me—and you too. Besides, I can’t open the gate without the crystal lotus she took from me.”
“But you have some kind of plan. You aren’t really going to marry her?”
I phrased my words carefully, figuring the Red Lady might also be listening. “I’m going to do what I must, and so are you. Namely, as best man, you’re supposed to throw me a wake, uh, I mean a bachelor party. Better get to work”
Old Man’s hand emerged from the little mirror on my chest. His fingers gripped a little folded square of paper. I plucked the note from his hand. His hand sank back into the glass, and the frame readjusted to its former size.
Salem stared, nonplussed. “You’re full of surprises. I am beginning to seriously regret interfering in your life.”
I opened the note and read Old Man’s elegant handwriting: WHILE I AM NOT OPPOSED TO HAVING GRAND KIDS; YOU NEED TO HURRY FOR HARUKA’S AND HIRO’S SAKE.
“Screw you,” I muttered.
THIRTY-FIVE
“Let the party games begin!”
—Caine Deathwalker
Playing with the now dormant necklace, lobbing it from hand to hand, I took a tour of the sprawling palace. I needed to get a handle on the Red Lady and I thought better in otion. Every now and then, one of those shadow people with red eyes would pass by, guys wearing archaic livery, women in long-sleeved gowns with their hair teased into artful piles atop their heads. The women all seemed to have a strong resemblance to the Red Lady. The guy’s faces were bland and unrefined. Besides giving her reality a lived-in look, the shadows bowed or curtsied, graciously asking if they might be of service.
I ignored them, more interested in the décor. A rich cherry wood paneling lined many of the spacious chambers. The floors were parquet, intricate puzzles made of different woods cut into different shapes. The center of the rooms almost always had large medallions at the center of the design, usually starbursts or flowers. Everything shone with a high polish though I never saw anyone actually working.
Pacing like a caged tiger, I discovered a five-story, octagonal library. Every wall was lined with ivory bookshelves, every level serviced by a railed gallery with rolling ladders. The tiled floor at ground level was a red and white checkerboard. High overhead, a massive ceiling dome was made of cloudy rose quartz.
The center of the room held three kissing couches arranged to form a triangle. Within the triangle, a wrought iron tree created shade from the pink light of the dome. The sculpted branches were festive, many of them dangling lanterns, fashioned from bright paper and thin-hammered gold foil. The lanterns cast out a soft luminosity that gave me multiple, pastel shadows as I circled the stacks, my hand trailing over the titles.
The writing was obscure, nothing I recognized. It resembled a blend of petroglyphs and Middle Eastern scrawl. I paused and picked out a book bound in red velvet. An attached black ribbon acted as a built in bookmark.
I cracked the volume and scanned a page, more of the meandering writing, written in blood on yellow parchment. I flipped a page and noticed that the writing had shifted orientation. Page after page, this happened; sentences ran left and right, then up and down, and on another page the symbols seemed to spiral from the center. No illustrations were there to help. I wondered if this were a demon tongue, or some language the Red Lady had invented.
Old Man might know.
With a shrug, and quick look over my shoulder, I proceeded to feed the book into the mirror I wore. I felt someone take the book from my hand, pulling it through. While I was at it, I sent the necklace through as well. It had done little good against the Red Lady, and if I didn’t make it back—I shuddered at the thought—maybe Old Man could still do something with it to help Haruka.
If I stretched the glass enough, it could get me out of here, except my hand had been stopped by the glass while the amulet and chain went through cleanly. I understood. There was no way out without the crystal lotus and a soul to feed it.
Mulling things over, I moved on and almost ran into a shadow girl servant. She held a sliver tray with far more substance than she had. The tray contained a gold cup encrusted with rubies. Beside the cup was a dark red bottle. The shadow girl spoke with a low, sultry voice, “Would My Lord care for some wine?”
“I’d rather have a white chocolate mocha.”
She looked ready to cry obsidian tears. “I do not know what that is.”
I snatched the bottle off the tray. “This will do, for now.” I waved her away, and she scurried out. Bottle in hand, I finished my circuit of the room and left the way I’d entered, the only door as far as I could see. The over-wide hall continued past ballrooms, parlors, assorted offices, and rooms devoted to fine collectables. I reached a solarium with a green glass table and padded chairs.
A sliding glass partition took me into another glass chamber, this one a greenhouse where riotous flowers formed a miniature jungle. Some species could easily have come from Earth or Fairie, others from the methane crevices of Titan, or a madman’s dreams. A few I steered well clear of, suspecting they were carnivorous.
I found a hammock supported by more of those tree sculptures. These had no lanterns. I was bone tired from a night of fighting, and from heavy magic use. Whatever restorative Old Man had giving me in that drink from the mirror had lost its edge. Only the horror of an impending marriage had galvanized me this long.
I dropped into the hammock and popped the cork from the bottle. Off my fe
et, I couldn’t believe how comfortable the sling was. That, and the bottle I guzzled, soon had me nodding off. The bottle fell from my hand as sleep closed in. Just before I lost consciousness, I thought I saw the Red Lady standing next to me, smiling, casting a woven throw across my body. Softness touched my forehead, a kiss. It was either that or a fragment of a dream.
I awoke, feeling hands patting me down. My eyes slit open. It was Salem, looking for the necklace.
He stilled and looked at my face.
I opened my eyes wider.
He shook me urgently, as if he’d intended this all the time. He smelled of booze and his words were slurred, “Time for your party.”
“Party?” I think he’d started early.
“Your bachelor party. That’s what a best man does after all.”
“Oh, yeah.” I slid in the hammock, swinging my feet to the floor. As I sat up, I kicked the empty wine bottle. It clinked and rolled away with a grinding sound. “Just tell me you’ve got hard booze and strippers.”
“Hard booze anyway. There aren’t a lot of women around here, ones that are real.”
“Booze is better than nothing.” I stood. “Wait a second, how long was I asleep?” Please don’t say twenty years. I wasn’t supposed to eat or drink anything here.
“Hours and hours.”
Better than days and days. Okay, I guess the food and drink are safe here after all.
A trifle off balance, he led the way back to the main part of the palace.
Sauntering along my earlier path, I noticed subtle changes in the floor plan and the décor. It reminded me that all I saw was built on a whim, and that whim could change without notice. This unseen threat hung overhead like a sword, no matter how benign the scenery might be.
Red Moon Demon (Demon Lord) Page 26
