Angie growled low in her throat as Cassie went by.
Cassie’s gaze flicked over us. I saw recognition in her face as she easily pierced our protective shroud. She winked at me and kept going.
Angie whispered, “Kitsune bitch thinks she’s all that!”
“There’s a reason for that,” I said.
“What?” Sarah whispered.
I smiled. “She is all that, and more.” I only wished I knew it from personal experience.
We went in, separating as the cloaking magic failed at last. The room looked like a film set version of an autopsy room. Tiles lined the floor and walls. Circular lights were suspended over stainless steel slabs that had drains for blood and other bodily fluids. There were water hoses for clean up and cabinet doors in the walls where bodies were stored, waiting their turn at examination.
William was the star attraction, occupying the central slab. His naked body looked freshly dead. His severed head balanced on a supportive yoke, eyes closed. The body was intact except for the hands. They lay near the damaged stubs of his wrists.
One of the hands began tapping two fingers.
They other hand picked up the rhythm, tapping along.
The corpse’s eyes snapped open, scanning the ceiling, shifting to us. He frowned. Tendrils of white flesh were rising like worms at the end of the wrists. The strands wiggled in the air, searching. Similar strands from the amputated hands reared as well. As the strings met, they fused. They contracted. The wrists were pulled back into place. I shifted my gaze to the neck and head. A similar process was in effect. Ropes of tissue filled the gap between head and neck. The ropes pulled. The head returned to its proper place. All signs of the previous amputations faded.
Angie turned away, holding her stomach like someone trying not to be sick.
William Cooper blinked. He drew a deep breath. He kept breathing. Slowly, He sat up.
Uncle William!” Sarah had stood in a state of shock, as if she’d not seem him in pieces before. Now, she ran and threw her arms around him, crying against his naked chest.
He patted her a little clumsily, as if this was new to him. I understood. William was an Alpha wolf. Showing a soft side of his nature could be interpreted as weakness. That led to challenges in the pack. And to gruesome, bloody deaths. Alphas therefore didn’t often go in for public displays of affection—except toward their mates.
I walked over to William, gun in hand. He looked up at me over Sarah’s head. His eyes snapped over to my gun. His eyebrows bridged, arching in a silent question.
“Shut up,” I said, “it’s over, I won, you lost, Angie and Sarah get to live. Because you were stupid enough to oppose me however, the rest of your little pack paid the price. They’re dead.”
His muscles bunched, like he wanted to shove Sarah aside, jump me, and rip my still-beating heart out of my chest. My gun was pointed at the back of Sarah’s head.
He controlled himself.
I continued. “Your Fenris wants you to control the new wolves made that night—before they go nuts on the townspeople and have to be put down. In other words, clean up the mess you made.”
I stepped to the side so Sarah wasn’t between us anymore, made a show of almost putting my gun back in the holster, only to lash out with the hilt, pistol whipping William across the face. His head rocked. His eyes blazed a deeper yellow. He bared white fangs.
I did put my gun away then, trusting my protective shield. “That’s for making my job harder. Now, I’m going home. You take things from here with these two.”
* * *
The sound of hammering and power tools, and the metallic smell of dwarf magic, made it hard for me to enjoy my Blue Lagoon. Old Man had imported some Iron-Clan dwarfs to fix up all the damage in the office that William’s wolves had done. He was billing William for this of course. Leona was still getting comfortable with Osamu hanging around, having moved into an empty bed room. She did like him; I was just hoping she didn’t eat him. He was handy to have around, especially since he made his own sake—by the barrel. This had instantly endeared him to Old Man.
Izumi had returned from Under-the-Hill with her mom. They were now out terrorizing Rodeo Drive in Beverley Hills. Women—fey, human, and otherwise—do love their shopping.
Leona was parked on a bar stool next to me. She was convinced the dwarf workmen would steal everything not nailed down if not watched closely. She’d been listening to my story of Vivian and the Slayers. “So, how did you get past them without handing over the necklace?”
They weren’t happy to lose the amulet. It went all the way back to the original founder of their group, Mordred Pendragon.”
“Club-footed bastard,” Leona opined.
I slid off the stool and went around the bar to make a pitcher of Cachaca, distilled sugar cane, fresh lime juice, water, and sugar. Diabetic suicide.
“I suggested the necklace was demonic and red moon an omen of doom. Then I offered to get the necklace back for them. They refused my generosity, smelling a trap.”
The leopard nodded. “Humans always think the worst of demons. Hey, I’m surprised you didn’t want to keep the relic. With all that power, you could have done anything.”
“Free power isn’t real. That thing should never have been made.”
Magical clouds swirled by the fireplace.
Osamu put a hand over his gun, but I put my hand up to stop him. He obeyed, but seemed uneasy with restraint.
The clouds thinned and Old Man was revealed. I didn’t wait for him to ask; I just started pouring him a drink.
“I got a new job for you,” Old Man said.
I looked at him and went for my gun.
He put up his hands. “Wait, don’t worry. This is your kind of job, so, are you in?”
“Do I get to kill, and only kill?”
“To your heart’s content.”
“I’m in.”
“By the way, have you heard what everyone’s calling you now?”
“Don’t really care.”
“You have a new name, Red Moon Demon.”
I looked at the Old Man and smiled. “Red Moon Demon. I like it.”
Red Moon Demon (Demon Lord) Page 30
