Red Moon Demon (Demon Lord)

by Blayde, Morgan

  I got the message.

  He turned and headed after Vivian, moving toward the roof’s exit. The slayers closed ranks behind him, following.

  I stayed where I was, watching a new shadow approach.

  It was Osamu. He didn’t look happy with me. Join the club.

  He stopped pretty much where Vivian had, staring down at me. His forehead was creased. His hands were in his pockets. He pulled one out and offered it to me.

  I reached up and let him pull me to my feet. I swayed slightly.

  His clean accent didn’t have any emotion to it. “You knocked me out.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Saved my life.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I ought to be grateful, I am, only…”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

  “I wanted to finish, fighting at your side.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  “Every man has a right to the death of his choice.”

  “Yeah.” I decided he had the right to a heartfelt apology. “Sorry.”

  “Okay. Forget it. Do you need help walking? An ambulance, perhaps?”

  I thought about it for a second. “If we go slow, I probably won’t fall on my face.”

  “We’ll go slow.”

  “Osamu,” I said.

  “Yes, Deathwalker-sama,”

  “I feel like getting drunk. Know where I can get my hands on some warm sake?”

  He nodded. “I know a place that never closes, but you may not like it.”

  “A hole-in-the-wall?”

  “A nice place, but in your current state, I doubt if you’re up to a brawl.”

  I frowned. “I don’t tear up every place I drink in. Those rumors are unfounded.”

  He looked at me without conviction.

  I said, “Okay, the rumors are mostly true. But this time, I only want to drink.”

  “I’ll take you there.” He supported me as I staggered toward the roof exit.

  “One more thing,” I said.

  “Hai?”

  “What would you say if I offered you a job as live-in security and occasional backup, for an obscene amount of money? It would mean putting up with me, Old Man, and a spirit leopard.”

  “Full medical?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  He grinned, suddenly looking decades younger. “I am honored, Deathwalker-sama.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  “Every now and then, the angel on my

  shoulder wakes up from its drunken

  stupor.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  There was a lot at stake. This had to work, or I wasn’t getting paid. The gold was fine, but I really needed a new demon sword.

  The garage light was on. The place was quiet except for the low hum of the industrial-sized freezer. Haruka’s body lay stretched on top of the lid. Her legs dangled off. There was a beautiful innocence to her. Fragileness defined her sleep, like an illusion about to break.

  The amulet lay heavy in one of my hands. The red pearl—light as a dream—lay in the other. Two paths of magic. Two choices of insane magic.

  The amulet was a tool of death, and able to manipulate its various states. Its power was god-level now, since Salem linked it to entropy. Each moment of death the universe felt was a source of energy that could make a necromancer drunk with power.

  The pearl possessed power poured from the heart of a goddess. It was a thing of miracles, and would have its costs to use.

  Love and death. Fire and ice. Committing to either would change me in ways I couldn’t yet see. Change my magic—change me.

  My dragon magic was a literal pain in the ass sometimes, but it made sense. There is a cost to all things. The necklace steals its power. There’s no true cost, no balance. That offended me to the core. I made my choice, dropping the necklace into the large side-pocket of the cargo pants I wore.

  My nerves shrieked with outrage, as if a straight razor were carving its initials in my often-abused flesh. This was the price I paid to heighten my senses so they enveloped Haruka, while I invoke a healing spell to help with the lightning damage she’d taken. That took care of my contribution.

  Now for phase two. I pointed a fist at her. Inside the fist was the red pearl. I opened my heart to it and a pulse of power hit me. I was suddenly able to hear the heartbeat of the universe, or maybe the heart of a Red Lady, far away in her own private universe where abandoned suitors and half-alive fragments of her own thoughts kept her company.

  I heard Haruka’s heart take a double beat, then a stronger one. She took a shallow breath. Then another. I was slightly disappointed that there were no Hollywood special effects from the pearl. I felt Haruka trying to live once more. Damaged by lightning, then by being frozen, her pale, sexy flesh resisted. I understood. I was calling her back to a universe of pain. It takes courage to face that.

  “C’mon, Haruka, you can do this. Your father’s waiting on you.”

  I’ve heard of fashionably late but this is ridiculous.

  I put my hand over her heart and, with my gut wrenching from pain, used a low-grade fire spell to warm her. Her fingers and toes were frost bit, but the damage unmade itself as dragon magic hazed her. If I didn’t know better, I’d think my power alone was bringing her back.

  I put the red pearl in a different pocket from the necklace. No way was I taking a chance on those two things getting together, and maybe fighting it out, and taking down half of L.A.

  I picked Haruka up and a soft sigh spilled from her lips. I cradled her against me and carried her into the house. The door to the kitchen stood open. I’d almost forgotten Old Man was watching. Passing him, I was pinned by his eyes. They were hard to read.

  He said, “Sometimes, I am not disappointed in you.”

  High praise, coming from him. I said, “Done, now where’s my gold, and sword.”

  I didn’t stop for him to answer. I knew Hiro would pay his debt. I was carrying the reason for that in my arms. Her eyes fluttered as I passed through the kitchen.

  I felt a shudder of revulsion. The room reminded me of another kitchen where the subconscious of a goddess nearly took my arm off

  In the living room, I walked to the couch and laid Haruka down. On the back of the couch, there was a charcoal and burgundy striped blanket that Angie had used when she’d stayed the night. I picked up the blanket and spread it over Haruka.

  Old Man went to the office and opened the door. Hiro stood just inside; waiting in the hell only a parent can know when a child’s life hangs in the balance.

  He came close, sinking to his knees beside the couch, never really seeing me. He gathered Haruka in his arms, crying as her eyes opened and she murmured soothing words to him.

  Old Man stood just behind me. He put his hand on top of my head. “You did good, Caine”

  “Drink, gold, sword, in that order, Old Man.”

  He laughed and went into the bar. While he made drinks for a calibration, I made sure Haruka was still okay. Her pulse was strong, her flesh warm, and vibrant with life.

  Haruka said, “Didn’t I … die?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “but you’re fine now.” I went to grab my drink from Old Man. Side by side, we stared into the living room from the bar. Family, so embarrassing. I looked at Old Man. “I’m so glad you’re not like that. I would have to shoot you.”

  Sometime later, Hiro placed a call. A car must have been cruising the neighborhood because it was only minutes later that a knock came to the door. I opened it and four black-suited men—replacements for those Salem had killed—walked in carrying briefcases.

  I led them in to where Hiro and Haruka waited. If the men wondered why the daughter of their new employer sat on a couch, naked under a blanket, they didn’t say so.

  Old Man redirected the men into the office and had them lay the cases on the bar, opening them to show the shine of gold bars, a hundred ounces each. The last man had a longer case. He opened and turned it so I could see.


  I got hard at once.

  It was the new demon sword. I could hear its lust for blood, and feel its murderous aura. I smiled, went over and petted the sheathed blade. We are going to have so much fun.

  Hiro said to the Old Man, “Thank you for all you have done for us.”

  “It was nothing, little Hiro.”

  Yeah, nothing for you—you weren’t the one who almost got killed a bunch of times... I felt a deep chill of fear ice up my spine. …And nearly got married. I picked up a drink and threw it back. That braced me, chasing the horror away. I returned to the living room to see my clients off.

  Haruka bowed deeply. “Caine-sama, I thank you for my life. I cannot express my gratitude.”

  I waved off her words. “Your gold is reward enough.”

  Haruka, Hiro, and his men left.

  Old Man followed me back to the bar. He watched as I caressed the gold lovingly. He said, “Some of that is mine, you know.”

  My hands stilled on the gold. “Oh, yeah, that’s right.”

  He continued to stare.

  The silence became annoying. “What?” I said.

  “Are you going to make me tell him?”

  “I’m sure Hiro will notice, once she gets hungry.”

  “That was not part of the deal.”

  I shrugged. “The deal was to protect her. Sure, she died, but I brought her back, no harm, no foul.”

  “She’s a succubus now. The ritual in the Mission took effect. Hiro might not consider that no harm.”

  “He can bite me,” I said. “She’s alive. With a little help learning to control her new nature, no one will ever know. And if they do, her power will ensure their loyalty so they don’t go around blabbing.”

  “She’s liable to take over the entire clan. As a succubus, Haruka will not be satisfied with the traditional role of a Japanese maiden.”

  “You’re right, but the deal was for her to be alive and safe.” I went behind the bar and started a couple more drinks.

  Old Man said, “That’s why I’m letting you keep your share of the gold and the sword. However, you need to give the amulet to me.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him. “No one should have it. No one should use it.” To get my point across, I repeated words he’d taught me as a child, “True power is not given, and never comes without a cost.”

  He glared at me. Before he could argue, his phone’s ring tone went off, playing Bad Moon Rising. His face lit up as he answered, “Hey Achill … what? Really, no problem bud. Yeah, I got vintage port chilling for the game. Hmmmm. Oh, no problem, I’ll get him on it right away.”

  I’ve a bad feeling about this.

  The Old Man put his phone away, “Hey, there are a lot of new wolves to deal with, and Angie can’t handle them, alone. She called Achill for help, for a new Alpha to be sent here.”

  I didn’t like it, a wolf territory here in L.A., but since the night of the Mission, we’ve had clanless wolves running wild. That wasn’t good either.

  Old Man said, “Achill told her he could still feel William out there somewhere, alive, more or less. Long story made short, they can’t find him so we’ve been commissioned to do so.”

  “William is one of the people I intend to kill. Soon. Let them bring in a new Alpha to subdue the wolves, and take them out of my territory.”

  “With the slayers setting up their own territory here, we need the strength of the wolves. The council has approved it, so don’t kill William … again.”

  “I know someone who I can call for a line on the Alpha, but if you expect me to swallow this, you’re going to have let me keep all the gold.”

  Old Man looked at me with a mixture of pride and irritation. “Fine, but I want the necklace.”

  “Only if you destroy it.”

  “I intend to.”

  “Okay.” By the time he said fine, I had my phone out, searching my contact list. I found her and pressed the button for the long distance call down to Texas. “Hey Cassie, I need some…”

  “Caine! Are you in town?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “Hey, Grace got that sword you recommended. Now she just has to learn to do something with it besides ninja poses.”

  “Great, listen, I need some help retrieving a body picked up by the PRT here in L.A. Do you happen to know where they might have…?”

  “Yeah, sure. Got a pen?”

  “Just a second.” I made a writing motion in the air and Old man slid a writing pad and pen across the bar to me. “Okay, go.” I wrote down the address she gave me and ended the call.

  “You’ve got a contact in the PRT?” Old Man asked.

  “She’s not local, or I would have called her for backup against the warlock.” I started for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  I waved goodbye without looking back. “No rest for the wicked.” I got out of the house, and strolled next door to William’s place. I knocked on the door and waited for Angie. I heard her moving in the house and a second set of footsteps as well. The door didn’t open, but I felt the presence of two people on the other side.

  I kicked the door. Hard. “Okay, get out here. I’m going to pick up William and need you to come along to make sure he stays calm. I’m doing this for Achill so I’m not going to kill William. Again.”

  The second I said Achill, the door opened. Angie stood in the doorway, tall and busty, her long red hair sleek and ember-red. Sarah stood behind her, looking completely different from before. More innocent, less driven. I understood, having held the amulet. Those who use it do not stay unchanged. As I looked at Sarah, Angie stepped over to block my view.

  Angie said, “Caine, she’s not evil anymore. You don’t have to hurt her.”

  I put on my serious-as-death face. “But what if I want to?”

  She growled at me. “Get over it.”

  I laughed at her. “Yeah, I get it, don’t worry. Look, I know where William is, but I need to make sure he doesn’t make me kill him. Again. So, you coming?”

  Sarah slid out past Angie. She looked like a lost teenager, scared and hopeful, “Gramps is really alive?”

  “Yeah, whatever you and the amulet did, keeps bringing him back, and not as a zombie. What kind of spell did you use?” I asked.

  “I don’t really remember. It’s like I’ve just surfaced from a dream and all the details are fading.”

  “Fine. Are you both coming?”

  They both said, “Yes.”

  “Okay, but if I hear any complaints, I’m blowing shit up,” I said.

  They didn’t say anything, shutting the door, following me to my mustang at the curb. We piled in and headed for the highway. There was a covert government installation waiting for my personal attention.

  FORTY

  “A demon by any other name

  … still smells like trouble.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  We reached the address Cassie had given me, and parked outside the gate of a Hollywood FX Studio. People knew of Area 51. They knew of the Illuminati. They knew about the magic bullet and the grassy knoll. They knew of a Kenyan-born president’s photoshopped birth certificate.

  But they don’t know about this place.

  We climbed out and headed for an unassuming gray brick building.

  Smart, if any one sees unnatural bodies they’ll just think they’re props.

  A small shed stood near the gate, a uniformed security guard on duty.

  “Are you going to kill him?” Sarah had a troubled look on her face.

  Walking between the girls, I draped my arms over their shoulders. I activated the Demon Wings tattoo on my back, and endured a grinding pain, as if all my bones were being crushed to powder. Had I still been on the Red Moon, real wings would have speared from my back, fanning out in a shocking display, but I was on Earth again. The pain eased and my presence was erased, along with that of the girls. Shielding us all had hurt more than normal, and wouldn’t last that long. We needed to hurry.<
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  Once past the guard shack, and inside the warehouse, I whispered to Angie, “Use your nose, and don’t worry about the tingly feeling on your skin; it’s just my magic.”

  She guided us past a receptionist that frowned at the door which seemed to have opened and closed itself. We moved on past oblivious security cameras, as the receptionist went to the front door, stared out, and shrugged. While she had her back turned, we went through another door, closing it softly behind us.

  I whispered, “Keep your hands on me. Break contact and they’ll see you.” We went along a wide hallway, past numerous doors of frosted glass, until Angie stopped us.

  “Here,” she said.

  I pulled out my lock pick mini-gun, stuck the prongs in the lock, and a few squeezes of the trigger later, the door was open. We walked in, careful to stay clustered together. Angie pulled us past a number of stainless steel slabs. We saw savaged bodies from the bloody battle, legs and arms lying in piles. We stopped in front of a frosted door and listened to the people inside.

  “Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  A cool, feminine voice said, “Don’t worry about it. These things happen. Just clear everyone out of this area, and I’ll see what I can do about stopping the next zombie apocalypse.”

  I knew that voice. Cassie? She got here fast.

  I pulled the girls out of the way as the door opened and numerous workers in white coats left in a hurry. Cassie was the last to go. She looked like a supermodel with dazzling smile, blond hair, and a knock out figure. I’d met her, and her daughter, on a recent trip to east Texas where I’d left a few bodies lying around.

  While a respected PRT member, Cassie was laid back enough not to count every unnatural creature of the night as a threat to mankind. This generosity of spirit came from the fact that she herself was only passing for human. Not something commonly known.