Demon Master 2 (The Demon Master Series)

by Daniel Pierce

  “Like what? I asked carefully. Her complaint carried the whiff of jealousy, and I chose to tread lightly.

  “Well, he’s a logical guy in addition to being incredibly handsome and devoted to service—” Risa began, only to pause when I shot her a look of disgust. I can admit he’s good-looking. I just don’t like to be reminded of it too often, in case he decides to leave the Church and chase immortals. I can’t stand that type of competition. I can’t help it, I’m sensitive that way. “All right, let’s try this angle. He asked us some questions about simple intelligence gathering, and we found that there were holes in our technique. Then he asked us about using direct observation.”

  “You mean like spying?” I asked.

  “Sort of, yes. But more directly, because he suggested something that we”—she looked at Wally, then back at me with some contrition—“had not considered, because of our prejudices, I guess. So, I think what we’re trying to say, in a way, is that you should—”

  “—go to dinner with Delphine and talk to her,” Wally finished.

  I sat quietly for a very long second, and then said, “Seriously? Kevin calls you, asks you about our surveillance tactics, and dinner with Delphine is what you come up with? I need to bottle what he’s selling because it is pure magic. Amazing.” I was stunned. I knew that we were all onboard with Delphine’s role in our lives for now, but this was a departure that reeked of maturity. I rarely find people dealing with implied sexual transgressions in a state I would consider mature, let alone reasonable.

  Wally grunted. “I don’t like it all the way, but yes. You must go to dinner with her, and she will become more of a friend to us because of your charm and because I said so.”

  Risa added to my instructions. “Kevin pointed out a massive flaw in our thinking. We want to eliminate Elizabeth, but we’re not tapping the one resource that has experience with her. Well, except you, that is, and on this dinner date, you’re to keep clothed at all times. I want you gathering information, not orgasms, understand?” She glared at me, but her smile was too close to breaking free for me to be in genuine fear of her recriminations.

  “No blow jobs. Only dinner,” Wally announced, and then winked at me and padded to the kitchen for more food.

  I made a show of thinking over my offer, and then agreed. “I’ll be a good boy. And I really think that she should come here for dinner, don’t you?” I asked, but Risa shook her head no. “Why?”

  “Because we’re not screwing around about this. Delphine doesn’t deserve to die, and she doesn’t deserve to be ostracized until we can understand all of her truths. We want her as an ally, and that starts as soon as possible, with you as our point man. After she agrees, or hell, if she agrees to be on our team, then we can bring her to our home, but not before, because it’s too intimate for something that might end up being a mistake. Yes?”

  “Yes. Now, I have a condition,” I said, steel in my voice.

  “What’s that?” Risa asked.

  “I want all of the bacon. Now.” I figured that my chances were not very good, and I was right.

  23

  Florida: Ring

  Dinner with Delphine was approaching and for the first time in years I was nervous. I didn’t like it. Leading up to my partners’ new views on Delphine, only one element was new. Suma had been in discussions with Risa and Wally. The three of them, without my knowledge, determined that treating Delphine as a resource was now a necessity.

  I began to feel the distinct whispers of anger. Suma’s presence had clarified a previously unknown opportunity for us to use Delphine. I was clearly that opportunity. Suma knew me as a man, but she also knew me as a patient, so my tolerance for systemic assault was something intimately familiar to her. Whatever her reasons, it seemed reasonable to think that Suma believed I could withstand sustained draining from a succubus who was older than Christianity. My good health, it would seem, became an acceptable risk in the game of gathering information. My sexual and moral collapse under the intense seduction of Delphine was a foregone conclusion, according to Suma, and by extension, my partners. Fine. I’ll play along, I mused, knowing that there were glaring issues Risa and Wally had overlooked, but I’d raise those at a later date after my suspicions were confirmed. Delphine was not the same woman I met a year ago, and I had a simple test to prove exactly that.

  It was just before sunset, and I was slipping into a dinner jacket Wally had placed on a hanger with the admonition that just because she was making me look my best, I should not for one second think that she wanted me to get lucky. Again, mixed messages, I thought as I shrugged into the coat, letting it settle over my shoulders as my phone rang. It was Delphine.

  “Ring, I apologize for the short notice, but—” she began, sounding contrite. Was she standing me up?

  “Is everything all right? Are we still having dinner?” I was concerned. Frankly, I looked forward to the evening.

  “Oh, yes, surely, but I’m in a bit of an unusual spot. Could you pick me up?” It must have been an uncomfortable thing to ask, but I told her I would arrive shortly. I grabbed my keys, phone, wallet, and was just slipping out the door after ruffling Gyro’s ears when something clicked into place and I stood, dumbstruck and more than a bit pissed at my own dim reaction to her phone call. Delphine did not drive. She didn’t pour her own drinks or cook or do laundry or peel apples or any of the thousands of mundane things that most people did, and in the short conversation, it hadn’t occurred to me to ask the one question that I would have to answer immediately upon arriving at her yacht.

  Where was Joseph?

  I pulled up at the yacht basin, and to my complete shock, Delphine stood, alone, waiting. She looked small, vulnerable, and tinged with an aura of sadness that danced just at the periphery of my senses. She hovered a bit, waiting. I opened her door, but the atmosphere between us stiff and hesitant. Hesitant? Delphine?

  She slid into her seat with my assistance, and we rode for the first moments in a sort of tentative silence until she put her hand on my arm and uttered a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

  She took a deep breath and said, “Take me to the beach, please? Let’s get a bottle of wine, and just walk. I don’t think I want to be a show pony tonight.”

  I turned toward Dania Beach Boulevard and went to a drive-through for wine, with the complimentary classy plastic glasses, and in minutes, we were walking, feet in the warm sand that held the day’s sun like a miser’s coins, drinking wine in silence.

  “It must be the ocean air; it’s delicious.” Again, her voice was free of judgments, and for a moment, she was utterly, charmingly human. “Joseph is gone.”

  I nodded. It wasn’t my place to offer anything on the subject. She knew I despised the pompous asshole. She drew a lingering hand across my shoulder and gave me an almost sisterly squeeze, and for the first time in my life, I saw an immortal cry. She waved me off when I instinctively tried to hold her, and I felt that, even for Delphine, this was something—raw. Unwelcome. And above it all, too honest for a woman who had spent so many centuries lying.

  “How long?” I asked, thinking that less from me meant more relief for her.

  “Yesterday. He gave no warning, and he took very little. I don’t think that he . . . have you had dogs all your life?”

  I shook my head yes. “All my life, since I was a boy. I’ve never known life without them. They’re more than friends.”

  She considered that, and then asked, “Is it true that when they get infirm, near the end, they’ll attempt to go—somewhere, so that they can die? And leave you in peace? Like a given sacrifice?” Her eyes moistened again.

  “They do, if you let them. Not always, but they just seem to know. I think it’s a compulsion, to both hide and to do no harm to us, their friends.”

  She looked away as I said this, and when her eyes returned to me, there was a flash of anger that rose, unbidden, hot, and steely. “He did not leave to die. If he had, he would not have taken the things he did. No, h
e left me. And that is not only unforgivable but an act of war.”

  My eyes goggled at that. War? “How can you— what? War?”

  “It’s Elizabeth.” Her voice had a malignant tone now. “She has hunted, cajoled, threatened, and even attacked me over the centuries. She has personally killed dozens of my confidantes, my lovers, and my employees, all of them lost to her blood thirst. She taunts me with my secrets and slaughters my allies; all in the name of her relentless desires for control of something that I am certain will burn her to the ground. She isn’t tough enough to rule. She confuses depravity and silence with will. I know the difference because I have to use my fortitude to still my hand from causing a war that would rend the land around her, just to see her bleed— and damn the costs.”

  I held her hand now, partially to quell her temper and also from a need to let her feel kindness, if only in a touch. When I saw the tide of her anger begin to subside, she faced me again and smiled.

  “You are a good friend to me, even when I still think of toying with you if only to cross that blonde you seem to like so much.” I laughed aloud; if nothing else, she was being a good sport. “Take me somewhere else, for dinner or just to talk. I’m in the mood to help you, and we can’t do it here if I’m moping around on the beach.”

  “I have to admit, this is a new side of you. I feel like I should reintroduce myself. I’m Ring, by the way.” I held out my hand, which she took, pulling me close and kissing my cheek.

  Her eyes dropped, demure and flirtatious. Some habits die hard. “I’m Andiarka, and it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  24

  New Orleans: Elizabeth

  For a moment, there was genuine warmth on her face. He stood a bit taller, and with more confidence, then lowered his eyes and kissed her hand. She praised his decision, even looping a companionable arm through his as she led him to a chair in the hotel suite, motioning to him that he should sit, all while beaming like a proud parent who has just declared their love for one sibling over another. It was a heady moment, and for the first time in months he felt relaxed.

  “This is an inevitable development, but I am still very pleased to see you. I have need of your particular abilities, beginning immediately.” Elizabeth was putting him to work without delay, and he dipped his head obediently.

  His curiosity overcame his better judgment and he blurted, “Abilities? But I have none, none to speak of . . .” Joseph trailed off in confusion. He’d left Delphine because of his descent. Surely Elizabeth could see that he was becoming something foul?

  She patted his arm reassuringly. It would be the last kind gesture he would see from her for some time as she cut her eyes at him in a critical assessment and asked, “Your language skills, do they allow you to speak, as well as read, in other tongues?”

  “Yes, mistress,” Joseph began using the title out of habit. And fear.

  “Very good indeed.” She seemed to lose her focus for just an instant, and then returned her piercing gaze to him. “You’ll need some clothing. I’ll select what you will wear. I’ll instruct you as to what role you will be playing. You will need to be conversational in medical terms, and quickly. By tomorrow, in fact. Pay particular attention to terms that pertain to obstetrics and gynecology. You will carry yourself in a manner that inspires trust, and you will do so without fail for two reasons. The first and most important of these is that you will adopt an aura of complete authority, suffuse it with compassion, and make your availability known to the immigrant communities around the city. The people on the fringe are who you will seek, people who are fearful of being seen, but trust authority figures enough to allow your presence at the birth of their children. You will look for women who are pregnant with twins, and you will insinuate yourself into their lives at the earliest possible point. I will inform you why as I deem this necessary, and I will observe you from afar to assure that you are being very . . . convincing. Do you understand?” Her voice was cold and tinged with disdain.

  Oh, Delphine, what have I done? Joseph was spinning out of control with the rattle of orders being issued by his new, far more dangerous mistress.

  “And your second order, mistress?” He kept his eyes averted.

  “I think that should be obvious, but before I show you the stick, here is the carrot.” Elizabeth reached a hand to him and lightly pried his lips apart. She looked with a clinical gaze at his teeth, their roots decayed and hazed with a deposit of something unclean, but she did not pull away in disgust. She merely leaned into him and covered his mouth with hers, pulling air into her lungs from his corroded chest, a wafting, pulsing rush of wind that spoke of crypts and moss, and in seconds, the feelings of life began to return to some of his body.

  Life. She is giving me life again.

  He nearly wept with joy, falling to his knees as she released him, bowing until his head was flush against the tip of one of her shoes, the leather gleaming like a mirror. He saw his reflection there, and it was one of the man he had been years before. The transformation was instant, and then, unbidden, the tears did come to him as she crouched and stroked one cheek with her finger, while her eyes searched his for something he could not discern. She was opaque, and yet momentarily open. Her lack of humanity was as complete as her contempt for the world around them. “And now, to the second command. Fail me, and my next touch will return the necrosis to your body with blistering speed. You will fall apart, piece by rotting piece, and I will watch it occur even as you reach for me. I have many archangels around me at any moment—boys, men, women—and they are of all walks of life. A sadistic scholar. A gentle craftsman, a tired mother, a boy who plays the guitar and weeps for his dead sister—all of them now serve me, as you shall. Do you. . .understand?”

  He nodded emphatically. He would become a doctor for whatever dark purpose she intended as long as his lungs continued to fill with such sweet air, free from the stink of death that had hung about him like a curse. He rose to his feet, meeting her gaze with joy and renewed confidence. “Where would you like me to start?”

  25

  Florida: Ring

  Dinner with Delphine continued in the form of a picnic in my Wagoneer. We ate olives and cheese bought at a liquor store and washed them down with the excellent red wine, adding a second bottle as a reserve. I sensed that she was opening up, which was a rare event. I let her talk. We parked on a dark street near the water, close enough to hear the waves, but not see them, which meant less foot traffic and less exposure. She leaned her seat back, just slightly, and again I was reminded of how petite she seemed, away from her place of power.

  “How old is the name Andiarka?” I asked around a mouthful of cheese. I’m quite the charmer.

  She swirled the wine in her plastic cup, watching it cling to the sides before sliding back down. “It’s always been mine. Since the beginning, when I can first remember my mother, and the smell of the sea when it raced up the cliff sides to overpower the peat fires we had at night. I loved my name, at least I did until I stained it with—” She hesitated, looking blankly into the window, and then said, “I ruined the beauty of my name long ago. I took something that was the last of my real memory and washed it in the blood of hundreds, perhaps thousands.” She turned to me with an intensity that was palpable. “Do you know Elizabeth rated my murders? She . . . graded me, like a student, or a child, year after year, for millennia. She always had someone watching me; it was a violation I cannot describe, knowing that I was being hounded to kill. I know you might doubt my sincerity, because it is true, I derive great pleasure from feeding. That pleasure has a great deal to do with my selections, some of whom are rather unsavory men. I do not, however, like killing; in fact I hate it. I always have. I can feed without being a monster. Did you know that?”

  “I didn’t. You have that fine a control on your—needs? How you feed, I mean?” I had my doubts that her feeding on rough men was purely altruistic.

  She shook her head softly. “I can go for days, sometimes
weeks without feeling those urges. The pressure that builds is like an addiction coming home to roost and then I look at men like something disposable. I can subvert the majority of it, but it has taken time to develop that kind of control. It was even harder knowing she had an agent nearby, ready to torture me with the accidental death or disappearance of a loved one.”

  I gave her a look. Love?

  “Yes, you dolt, I feel love.” She punched me lightly on the shoulder. “Oh, I find the whole notion of making sandwiches for some husband rather . . .” She wiggled her fingers in distaste. “But, yes, love. It is something I have felt, and something I choose to seek, regardless of my uninvited watchers who haunt me throughout my life.” She took an oil-cured olive and nibbled it delicately, then tossed the pit out the window like a regular hooligan. “I have been in love, and there have been times that I have felt genuine love in return.”

  “Genuine?” I prompted.

  “Yes, authentic. Real love, based not on my skills, but on me. The who, rather than the what. It isn’t common, but it is often enough that I have had to take certain precautions against the more assertive lovers who confuse sex while I feed with permission to, ah, enter my personal life.”

  Precautions seemed such a bland term. “What kind of persuasion was used on the men who have gotten a bit too enthusiastic?”

  She drifted into deep thought for a second, as if processing how to relate something to a child. “At first, I was able to move around in order to avoid being an unwilling target, but that got tiresome. I cannot tell you how much work I squandered, leaving a home that I had labored for years to perfect, usually; I had to abandon an excellent identity as well. Some brute with a stiff cock and a tin ear would pursue me like a hare, never associating our sex with the bedridden exhaustion he felt for days afterward. They would always take it as a sign that I was made for them, and then they would invade my life as surely as an army coming ashore.” She shuddered delicately in remembrance.