Vern snorted. “Better than teaching youngsters who think they know it all?”
Malcom laughed. “Exactly.”
They arranged to meet the following Monday at Malcom’s house. Then Malcom had to leave. He was going dancing that night with his main squeeze, Adele, who he appeared to just be dating, as he was single and had remained so his entire life.
After Malcom had left, Vern and the girls waited for Lizzie to come join them. Vern felt as though sparkling wine ran through his veins instead of plain blood.
“Did you suspect? Before?” he asked Christine while they waited.
Christine shook her head. “Dennis thought there was something wrong. I told him he was imagining things.”
“Dennis worries,” Vern admitted. “So do you.”
“I’m afraid that you’re going to be more vulnerable until you finish your training,” Christine admitted.
“What?” Vern said. “I’m totally going to rock it.” He gave her a huge grin, just to watch her roll her eyes at him.
The family had survived Christine “coming out” as a troll. He and Lizzie were still rock solid, maybe more so after the long heart-to-heart talks that they’d had the last few years.
The Tuckermans could survive another magician in the family.
It was going to be kind of groovy.
Chapter Ten
Ty Brooks, demon-hunter extraordinaire, sprinted for his life.
Who would have thought that the Rinwrathkitum demons in their juvenile form were so fast? Particularly since the adults looked like slow-moving limestone boulders? Complete with yellow rock full of holes that crumbled quickly?
Seemed that their youngsters, however, were more like flying granite birds, with narrow, knife-like wings and long, wickedly-sharp beaks.
Some demons just had messed up morphology.
Ty had gone hunting for his most recent bond jumper in the pocket world that the Rinwrathkitum had claimed as their own. The land was made up of an arpeggio of desolate rock islands surrounded by cold gray oceans. The water appeared to be part of their birth cycle as well.
Oh, and had he mentioned that the oceans were inhabited by death sharks that made the huge killer sharks on earth seem like kittens in comparison?
He hadn’t laid eyes on his prey yet, though he knew that the jumper was there. He could smell the demon. He just had to find the stupid son of a bitch before the demon hopped planes again.
Ty wasn’t a full lycanthrope—he hadn’t originally been human, bitten by a werewolf. Instead, he’d been born to a lycanthrope and a human, so he was only one quarter werewolf. Then, his human father had insisted that Ty go through strict training, starting as a child, so that he didn’t react to the moon curse and instead, could change shape when needed.
More than one werewolf considered Ty an abomination.
He had no use for old farts so tied to tradition that they’d chain their own kids to the same hopeless cycle of man-monster. Instead, he continued his training and meditation so he was always in control of the beast within. This made him not only an oddity in his clan, but in the world in general. He wasn’t human, he wasn’t one of the kith and kin, and he wasn’t part of the Host or a demon.
He was always the odd being out, and he was okay with that.
Currently, Ty was in his half-changed form. His nose was pushed out into a dog’s snout, as black as his skin. He could follow a lot more scents when he was like this. He’d let his ears transform as well, growing up into points on the top of his skull, able to swivel and gather more sounds. His hands had grown a little bigger and black claws now tipped his fingers. But he’d kept the rest of himself the same.
A shrieking noise from above and behind Ty made him bend over as he kept running. One of those damned juveniles nearly strafed him, the obsidian sharp talons putting yet another tear into Ty’s leather jacket.
Damn it! This bond was just getting too expensive.
But once Ty had the scent in his nose, he found it difficult to just give up the trail.
The ground under Ty’s good boots was rough, full of small pebbles that would make him slide down a slope at exactly the wrong time. The sky was a yellowish white, with thin trails of clouds riding high. It didn’t smell exactly like rotten eggs, but close.
The smell of shit from the juveniles was much stronger, with a sour, rotten-yogurt smell.
Yet, under all that was an even ranker odor. Like someone who made a habit of eating spoiled cabbage had just taken a shit. It was eye-wateringly foul.
Impressive, really.
Ty hadn’t meant to disturb the “kids” on the rock face. But he’d thought that the jumper had been there. Or at least had passed by recently.
Had probably been chased off, just like Ty was.
Buggers were persistent, too, and had continued chasing Ty even after he’d covered, what, half the island already?
At least he thought the scent of the jumper was now ahead of him, instead of behind him. Or had the winds just carried the demon’s scent in a weird pattern?
Ty stayed low to the ground, not climbing any of the short hills he ran by. He’d learned quickly that the birds didn’t like dropping down so close to the earth.
Finally, Ty spied what looked like a trail going down the side of one of the hills, leading to what looked like a cave at the far end.
The stench of sour cabbage wafted up toward him.
Got you now.
It didn’t surprise Ty to see the demon sulking just inside the mouth of the cave.
It did surprise him when the demon waved his claws in the air and said, “Yoo hoo! I’m over here!”
Ty paused for just a moment, only to be hit solidly on the back by another one of the damned birds.
“I’m not trying to hurt you!” he yelled at the damned flock.
They didn’t seem to understand that as the next one was already dive bombing toward him.
Ty knew if he started fighting the birds, more would come. And more. And more. There would be too many for him. It would be like something from one of those bad human horror films.
Never mind that Ty and his kind were frequently monsters as well in those same flicks.
Instead, Ty turned and ran again, slaloming down the trail toward the opening of the cave. More than one bird brushed by the side of his shoulder, unable to get a claw in.
“This way!” the demon shouted.
Ty didn’t have any choice. He turned at the last minute and swerved right into the cave, running full tilt, trusting that he’d be able to stop quickly enough.
Before the demon could ambush him, at any rate.
Ty still ran into a rock wall, bouncing back hard. At least he landed on his feet. Man, that was gonna leave some nasty bruises. He turned around quickly, claws out, ready to take on all newcomers.
However, the demon in question didn’t seem to be intent on killing Ty. Not at all.
Instead, the demon rushed over to where Ty was now standing. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” He genuinely looked concerned, which was kind of a funny expression on a face with a single eye bulging from the center of his forehead and a mouth full of nasty teeth. The demon wore ragged breeches, looking like a reject from the Renaissance Festival. He had welts and boils running down both arms and his chest, constantly bleeding pus.
Yup. That was the source of the demon’s stench.
Ty rolled one shoulder, then the other. “Nothing that a good long soak in Epson salts won’t cure,” he said. He tugged at his jacket and tried to see the slashes across the back of it. “This, though, is ruined,” Ty admitted.
“Can you get us out of here?” the demon asked anxiously.
“What, you want to go back to prison?” Ty asked, incredulous.
“No, of course I don’t,” the demon said, sounding exasperated. “However, it beats being trapped here.”
“I can see that,” Ty said, nodding. “Why couldn’t you get yourself out of here?”
The
demon grimaced. Even with so many teeth and such a huge mouth the expression was clear. “Look, I only hitched a ride here. My cousin Benny thought this would be a good place to stash me. He had no idea about those hell birds.” The demon glared at the flock that had gathered just outside of the cave, like a miasma waiting to inflict them with doom. “I can’t get out of here on my own. Okay?”
“Then let’s go,” Ty said. It didn’t take him long to form a portal that led them straight to the bailiff’s office, in the basement of the court of the Host.
Once his charge was booked, Ty nearly turned right around and headed for home. He deserved a good long soak, along with a large glass of whisky.
Something, though, made him look at the wanted board. He could excuse his behavior as professional interest, curiosity about where his next job might be coming from.
But he knew that something about the board raised his hunting instinct. Along with the hairs on the back of his neck.
Ty gulped when he saw the board.
There, in the middle, was a wanted poster with pictures of Lars Sorgenfreys in both his demon as well as human form.
Seemed that Lars had escaped prison.
With a sigh, Ty knew that his bath was going to be a long time in coming as he called Christine with the news.
Chapter Eleven
Christine did not normally swear. She felt that using curse words was frequently a sign of a lack of imagination. Of course, there were some honestly creative curses, and Christine had always meant to practice some of those so that the correct bon mot would fall from her lips at exactly the right time.
However, just then, she felt like uttering every curse word she knew in every language she could think of. Even if she had to make some of them up herself.
Ty had just let her know that Lars had escaped from prison at least a week ago.
Why hadn’t anyone notified her? Wasn’t it the job of the Host and the court to keep all the races safe?
Ty hadn’t been surprised that she hadn’t known. Seemed that they probably wouldn’t have said anything unless Lars hadn’t been caught, say, after a month or so.
Did they really think that highly of their abilities to find the slippery demon? Christine had only barely managed to survive their last encounter.
She’d assured Ty that she didn’t need him to come over or anything. The poor man sounded exhausted. She assumed that his latest prey had led him on quite a chase.
“I’ll go see Nik tomorrow,” Christine assured Ty before she hung up the phone. “He’ll help me ensure that my protections are adequate.” It would cost her, of course. Nik was first and foremost a businessman. He didn’t do anything for free.
Tonight, well, tonight Christine was damned if she was going to change her plans. It was Saturday night, after all. She and Alanorin were going on a date.
Mud wrestling.
They’d gone to a couple of jello wrestling bouts. The green, lime jello had always bothered Christine’s nose as well as her skin.
The mud, when it was done right, was actually better for Christine’s tough hide. She’d joked with Tina about it being as good as a day at a spa. Tina hadn’t seemed to appreciate the mud or the joke as much as Christine had.
Then again, Tina was merely human.
Christine really felt the need to get out and let loose with some of her pent up hostility tonight. Hopefully, Alan felt the same way, and that afterward they could both bask in the glow of their own “combat.”
Although, sex with Alan wasn’t as magical as it had once been. Christine had tried to communicate her needs, as much as she knew them. It felt to her as though Alan wasn’t always interested in fulfilling them.
Was she being selfish? She honestly didn’t know.
Tonight, Christine’s human self wore a too-tight white camisole under a pink and baby-blue flannel shirt (it was Seattle, after all), along with skintight jeans and black combat boots. Her troll self wore merely a gray bikini top and cute boy shorts. She didn’t bother with any sort of transformation, just throwing on an illusion spell to cover herself so that most who saw her were fooled.
She hurried to meet Alan at the meet, far up north, just off of Aurora Avenue in Shoreline. The area was slowly being gentrified, as there had at one point been hookers on every corner of this neighborhood. Asian markets and Halal restaurants were taking over what had once been preliminarily a Mexican neighborhood.
The portal she used was near the parking lot of a dive bar that sometimes had really good live music. The lot tonight was full of Harleys and other big bikes. Maybe she and Alan would have to stop by later for a beer or something, listen to some music before they headed back to her place.
Or maybe not. She winced as the first bad chord rang out from the open door of the bar. Whoever was in there needed to tune their instruments better, or to stop strangling that cat. She winced again at the next chord and hurried up the street.
The front part of the building Christine went to was still a gym. It had floor to ceiling windows across the front, so that people could be seen being virtuous. Mirrors lined the back. Useless treadmills and weight machines lined the walls. No free weights, which made Christine turn up her nose. Only then did she notice the smell of the gym—of human sweat and too little effort.
No one was stationed in the front part of the gym, which made Christine a little concerned. Just anyone could walk in here. Even the reception desk was empty.
However, after she took a few steps into the room, she heard a lot of noise coming from the back, the roar of non-human voices echoing off hard, concrete walls.
This was the right place after all.
Alan stood just outside the door to the back, chatting easily with one of the orc bouncers. He looked good as a human, though Christine always preferred his troll form. He had long black hair that hung over his eyes, like a bad boy. His dark eyes, tiny nose, and thin lips gave him a mischievous look.
His human skin was dark colored, like hers, though a touch more tan, as if he had some Asian blood in him. He wore a green Army jacket that fit him snuggly across his broad shoulders, tight jeans, and black combat boots.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Alan said, sliding away from the door and coming toward her. “Hello, darling,” he said as he took her in his arms and kissed her, right there in front of everyone.
Christine wasn’t really comfortable with the PDA. But she allowed it because she knew this was one of the ways that made Alan feel better here in the human plane, if he was allowed to touch her.
It was as though he needed a physical reminder that he wasn’t here alone, by himself, even though he was standing right next to her and could see her.
“Hi, handsome,” Christine said, smiling at him. She drew him closer for a quick hug, taking a deep breath of his scent.
That was one thing about Alan. He always smelled right, like good solid earth and fresh air. Christine had dated a couple of other trolls before, but they’d never smelled right.
“I already registered us on the lists,” Alan said as he took her by the hand and led her back toward the door. “We’ll be in the fifth round.”
“Great!” Christine said. She stopped before they reached the door, tugging on Alan’s hand. “Can we talk for a moment before we go in there?”
Alan looked unhappy, but he said, “Sure. Let’s go back up front.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the two bouncers and rolled his eyes.
Christine bristled at the implication that of course, the woman wanted to talk.
Honestly, while she didn’t care for human males, sometimes she wondered if she’d prefer dating one. At least a modern male who’d been brought up right. Troll males tended to be a lot more primitive. Which was sometimes lovely when it came to their sex life. Not so much in other areas.
Still, Christine held her head up high. These other wankers didn’t need to know that one of the key generals of the demons had just escaped from prison and was up to no good.
“You remember that demon I put into prison? Five years ago?” Christine asked.
Alan finally seemed to be catching a clue that Christine was not only serious, but a little bit freaked out.
“Yeah?” he said, seeming unsure.
Few trolls actually visited the human plane. In addition, not much news of Lars’ capture had shown up in Trollville. Most of the news had been just about Princess Kizalynn returning.
“Lars—he’s escaped from prison,” Christine said.
Alan gave an appropriate reaction, his eyes grown wide. “Holy shit!” he said. “Do we need to go home? Right now?”
“No,” Christine said firmly. “The bridge is as defended as it can be. Plus, he escaped over a week ago. If he were gunning for me, he already would have shown up. No, he must be up to something else. Something no good.”
“You sure?” Alan asked. “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
That was certainly an odd way to phrase that. “What do you mean?” Christine asked, puzzled.
“You know. Unsafe. I’d protect you,” Alan assured her.
“Pfffft,” Christine said. “I can protect myself.”
Alan pulled himself up straighter at that. “I know,” he said coldly. He glanced back at the door where the two orc bouncers still waited. They were occupied with the next pair who had come in. “Look, I need you to go easy tonight, okay?”
“What are you talking about?” Christine said. She had a sinking feeling of what it was that Alan was asking of her. She needed for him to spell it all out, so that she wouldn’t be making a false assumption.
“I told the guys that you were a sure bet. To lose,” Alan said.
“You what?” Christine said growling. She wasn’t mad, not yet. But she was certainly inching up that incline.
“The odds were in favor of us winning,” Alan said. “Now, you know that it would look funny if I bet against myself.”
“So you bet for us, but now you’re trying to make more money? By what, having me throw the first bout or something?” Christine said. She’d hit fuming at this point. Boiling angry was just around the corner.
The Troll-Demon War Page 8