Crimson Sword Stalker (Demon Lord Book 10)

by Morgan Blayde

  What? I asked.

  Not my fault if he can’t hang on, right?

  What’s got your goat?

  The arrogance. He just happens to have a mole-skin saddle lying around. My scaly ass!

  He’s already dead. A fall won’t kill him. You’d make an unnecessary enemy of him. Besides, he’d just whip some ghosts out of nowhere to catch himself, and you’d wind up looking stupid.

  Oh. Good point.

  My dragon didn’t need a lot of height, just enough for a power glide. Above the drive, a shrill scream struck up at us; the centipede voiced a challenge. I remembered that in its home dimension, it had flying monsters to contended with. My dragon roared back, equally defiant, but we thundered higher until we flew over the gates. From there, we angled toward an estate a couple of houses over.

  Pink Italian marble stretched from the front gates to the mansion, forming a square courtyard. The massive building stood two stories, champagne stucco with decorative ridges carved to give the building a modern look. Lights blazed from every window. Golden, Mexican tiles covered the peaked roof. The layout was a zigzag: one piece, a three-car garage with rooms on top. The next section was a turret and great room with a recessed set of front doors.

  The third section faded back, curving around to embrace a pool house next to a backyard swimming pool. Underwater lights made the pool stand out in the night, making a great rectangular jewel of it. There seemed to be a fat, bald man in purple trunks floating face down in the water.

  My dragon focused in on a rooftop deck that faced the back of the property and a spectacular canyon view. It would be a tight fit. Still thirty feet off in the night, my dragon grunted, hitting the unseen barrier we’d been warned off. Our wings beat at the barrier, our clawed feet scrambled for traction, as if we’d land on the barrier and just walk across its top.

  We slid backwards as the wall expanded, the necromancer sensing us, fighting back. Cold seeped into my dragon—the cold of the grave. The barrier leached our life in a steady trickle.

  Oh, no you don’t.

  I poured shadow magic into Kain’s sword and drew my dragon’s attention to the weapon poking out of his paw. He swung to the side, slashing with the blade, and slid a wing into the gap. I filled us with more shadow magic so that out scaly gold length turned jet black. Stealth mode.

  The barrier lost track of my dragon; we lurched closer to the house, inside that barrier. I hovered over the roof deck. My dragon wasn’t going to fit. He raised an arm, reaching back, and handed Kain his sword—now obsidian with my energies charging it. My dragon turned his head and long neck to meet Kain’s gaze.

  The vampire hesitated over touching his transformed blade, then grabbed the hilt and grinned. He stood up, balancing on the base of my dragon’s neck. He leaped from there and arced down to the roof’s concrete pad, an area surrounded by roof tiles. There was an elevator stall of concrete, a barbeque station, and an outdoor, canopied bed for fucking by starlight.

  A hot, bikini clad woman in her early forties lay there, a redhead who smelled of death.

  Kain landed, just missing a set of tables and chairs. He padded over to the elevator and thumbed the call button.

  Behind him, the dead body twitched and sat up on the bed. She crawled toward him.

  Not my problem, my dragon said.

  We dropped into the backyard. A pair of wiener dogs waddled toward us from the pool house’s open door. Mouths agape, tongues lolling casually, their lack of fear wasn’t rational.

  My dragon glared at them, baring jagged teeth.

  Hello? Dragon here.

  I touched thoughts with him: Listen, no heartbeats. They’re dead.

  Zombie dogs? And here I am without mustard and buns.

  They increased speed, bouncing into the attack more than leaping. My dragon opened his maw and upchucked a raging tangle of lightning. His teeth closed on them. He chewed. They crunched. He swallowed.

  At least they’re fresh.

  Never mind that, I said. We need to get to the necromancer before Kain does. He’s not getting into my armory.

  But the wet, fat, bald zombie from the pool had other ideas. I looked back and saw him gnawing on the barb of my tail. My dragon flicked his tail. The zombie flew off his feet, over the pool, and landed on the square pickets of the wrought iron fence. Several of the black spears poked up out of his belly. Blood stained his stomach. He writhed, pawing at the fence, snarling as his head rocked side to side. I doubted his weak muscles were up to the job of lifting his bulk free. He’d be there a while.

  I turned to the patio doors. I could batter my way inside, but too much of that would bring down the house on everyone. I told my dragon: Better let me take it from here.

  Fine.

  A whirlwind of golden mist gusted up, extra mass expelled and gone in an instant. In that same second, bones melted, reforming into a human pattern. Muscles shriveled. Organs compressed. In the darkness of my dragon’s mind he and I regarding one another. The darkness became the back shadows of my mind, a place for him to haunt.

  I opened my eyes to see three different set of French doors to choose from. The closet ones looked like they led past a kitchenette and breakfast bar, into a family room. I went toward them and saw my human reflection in the glass doors: naked, totally buff, but short as ever, damn it.

  It’s just wrong of you to hog all the growth, I told him.

  Bite me. Most of the time, you get to be human—to use the term loosely. You think that’s fair?

  I hate it when he’s right.

  Well, at least I could arm myself. I pictured my new sword, the one my Villager family brought me in Fairy during my recent campaign there. The blade appeared hilt-first in my hand: a titanium katana with a straight blade, the hilt wrapped in black leather. I’d put a lot of dragon and shadow magic through this sword in the fey wars. The katana had an odd shadow on it, as if metallurgically changing nature.

  I’d have to look into the effect, later, for now…?

  It just needs to kill.

  I kicked the doors where they touched, though they weren’t locked. They flew apart, riding back on their hinges. Several panes shattered. A few others just cracked. I stomped forward, crossed the family room, and angled away from a formal dining room, toward the mansion’s front foyer. I wasn’t smelling any bodies close by but heard the sounds of battle.

  I stopped under an elaborate sculpture of silver columns: lights, an artsy chandelier. A staircase of dark brown wood lay on my right. Ahead, the front doors were open, one off its hinges. In the living room diagonally ahead and on my left, I saw three young zombie children in mindless rampage—little difference from most children. Gloria danced out of their clutches, chopping them up with her short swords.

  I left her to her fun, taking the stairs up to the second floor. I heard werekitties growling and knew I was late to the party. At the top of the staircase, curved railing led right to a closed door. Left, a hallway stretched away with more doors, probably kids’ rooms. Left and toward the back of the house, I saw opened double doors. That’s where the sound of breaking furniture and werekitty growls drew me.

  I went into a master suite, ducking as a ceramic vase shot past my head, exploding against a wall. Teri balanced on the handrails of a treadmill, poised to leap. Dani stood on the king-sized bed, holding the long pole of a lamp like a martial arts staff. She used the heavy base to bludgeon a small zombie poodle.

  Cleo was against a far wall, arms full of fragile vases, decorative plates, and picture frames. She slung piece after piece at a yellow-and-green blur of feathers. A zombie parrot squawked, avoiding the missiles.

  “Polly wants a cracker—NOW!”

  I backed out, closing the doors behind me, and ran down the hallway to the other wing. No sign of Kain or the necromancer.

  A door opened ahead of me and a sixteen-year-old blond in cut-off shorts and a white tee stepped out, arms wrapped around a pink teddy bear. I knew from her smell and the cant of he
r head that she was dead and had a broken neck.

  A black sword came out of the room behind her. It pierced her back to front, stabbing out between her perky breasts, killing the stuffed bear as well. Best as she could, she looked down, then simply walked off the sword. She turned her back on me, facing Kain as he came out of the room after her.

  I smiled.

  She was cute, fine ass, lovely legs, but not a necromancer.

  Where the fuck is he?

  EIGHT

  “I hate bad guys that hide. They should all

  wear Day-Glo orange hair and clown shoes.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  The necromancer had played us. This whole attack-from-the-neighbor’s-yard thing smelled like a diversion. If so, it begged a few questions: what was the point, and his real goal?

  Standing in the hall near the zombie teenager, Kain’s sword lashed out, stabbing past her head, then slashing to the side in an economical, short stroke that decapitated her. Her head hit one wall, bounced down to the dark wood floor, and lopsidedly rolled a crooked path. Her head stopped at my feet, staring at me with shocked eyes.

  You’re dead. Deal with it.

  The girl’s mouth opened and a voice that had never been hers spilled out, a male voice that reverberated theatrically, a stab of sound that sank into a wavering gibber. The howl of a jackal. Just like the phone calls, I expected nothing more, but the sound was followed by an actual message: “Keeping dancing, fools. I need to be amused.”

  “Fuck you and the zombies you rode in on, too,” I said.

  “You would do well to copulate your willing ass with a garden spade,” Kain said.

  “You’re an evil vampire overlord,” I said. “You can say fuck.”

  Kane ignored me.

  The head said: “If you want me, come to the front of the mansion.”

  Closer to downstairs than Kain, I grinned, turned my back, and ran for the stairs using dragon strength and speed.

  No way he’ll catch me.

  I spun hard right and flung myself down the gray-carpeted stairs, barely touching them. From the middle landing, I turned again and leaped for the foyer floor. Something heavy hit the massive light fixture high overhead. I didn’t have to look to see Kain taking a shortcut.

  Landing, I sprang toward the front door, seeing Gloria’s glorious ass ahead of me. Damn vampire hearing. She’d heard the girl’s talking head and gotten the jump on both Kain and me.

  I didn’t slow, barreling out the door with a hard-on to kill.

  She stopped to slice at a pair of werejackals—not yet zombies—matching them snarl for snarl. One got ripped up the crotch while the other lost a hand. They were hurt, but not down, so the dance continued. Me, I was up in the air, jumping over Gloria and her new pals. I couldn’t afford to stop and help her; Kain wasn’t far behind and knew how to throw a sword as well as I did, by all accounts.

  Dropping back to the pink Italian marble of the courtyard, I stared out the front gates. A '67 Shelby Mustang GT 500 sat there, its Cobra Le Mans engine growling loud, a black monster with two broad gold stripes on the hood. It was my first Mustang; the one Kain had showed me in his museum. My first love. Of course, I looked at the car before the driver.

  The vehicle peeled out, roaring down the street.

  I burst out the gate, sliding to a stop in the middle of the street, my sword clenched in hand. Kain appeared next to me. The bastard wasn’t even breathing hard. Or breathing at all. He’d forgotten to keep up the illusion of life in all the excitement. He glared at the mustang’s taillights as it cut a corner and vanished.

  “Son of a chupacabra!” Kain swore. “He stole my car!”

  I looked at him. “Your car?”

  “I stole it first. Besides, I’m a collector of dragon-demon lord memorabilia. If it’s yours, it needs to be in my safe keeping.”

  “You know that’s insane, right?”

  He shifted his red stare to me as Gloria jogged up to us. “Caine, if you go dragon, you can catch him.”

  I pointed up into the air where a Mustang floated off into the night, carried by a bile-green cloud of mystic energy. “He’s out of my league. There’s no way I’m going up against him without massive firepower and Selene at my side.”

  “Wasn’t that just a werejackal at the wheel?” Gloria asked.

  “Well, jackal from the neck up. The rest was a man in a black suit with an open-necked gold silk shirt. Anubis,” I said. “Not a necromancer, the ultimate necromancer. We’re fighting a death god here.”

  “You’re not giving up, though,” Kain asked. “You’ve got to get my car back.”

  “Why don’t you get it back? After all, he stole it from you. I don’t think you realize this whole mess is more about him giving you the finger than me.”

  Kain lifted both eyebrows. “How do you figure that?”

  “He attacked me because he knows you think of me as your missing soul. If he had killed me in Sacramento, think of the loss of face you’d have endured—besides the loss of a hobby. Taking the car from your collection, from your security, from your home—that’s a double slap in the face. He has something personal against you.”

  “I don’t know what. I’ve never crossed swords with Anubis.”

  “It’s prejudice against vampire,” Gloria said.

  “She’s right,” I said. “Vampires are undead, technically cheats. If your kind were properly dead, shinigami of one type or another could reap your souls to swell their collections. Anubis is an old god who no one follows any more. That means no new followers. My guess is; he figures to take the Lord of Vampires so he can claim all vampires.”

  Kain’s eyes narrowed as he considered. “It makes a great deal of sense. Then, he targeted your Sacramento werecats to lure you to a battleground of his choosing.”

  “He could have done that by going after the werekitties here in L.A. He was multitasking; messing with us and going after Kat because her Pride shelters Zahra. I told you about her.”

  “The child with the Eyes of Bastet. Why war with a goddess of his own pantheon? Battles on two fronts are difficult to win,” Kain said. “Not that I haven’t done it.”

  He turned back toward his estate and led the way with Gloria and me few steps back. He asked, “Do you have a plan?”

  “More a strategy,” I said. “I’m going to track down Kat. Zahra’s power might lead me to Anubis, wherever he’s hidden. And I can use her for bait if Anubis still wants her. I might be able to hit him when he goes for her. With Selene, and the blessing of Bastet, I might be able to overpower him long enough to rip out his heart.”

  I wondered how a god’s heart might taste.

  “But you have to find this missing Pride first,” Kain said. “I’ll put out word for all vampires to be alert for them, and to render assistance. When I hear of their location, I’ll let you know.”

  I nodded, but I had my own plan that might work better. I just had to get Colt to contact me. He’d know where Zahra hid; he’d bonded with her over the Las Vegas wedding and he kept track of his friends. I couldn’t understand how a son of mine could be so reliable.

  Gloria said, “Anubis has declared war on all vampires. Caine, when you go after the death god, I’m going to be at your side.”

  I assumed as much.

  Vivian and the Red Centipede Rider met us at the gates of Kain’s estate. I looked past the blood-splattered werekitties and Vivian. Chopped pieces of werejackal were strewn everywhere. All the heads were loped off and arranged in a cute pile. One of the vampire servants had a hose out, washing off the excess blood from the drive. I didn’t see Selene anywhere. Knowing her, and her wily hunter’s instincts, I had to wonder if she up in the sky somewhere, shielding herself, trying to follow Anubis and the flying Mustang. If so, I hoped she was careful. If she died at this point in the timeline, I’d lose both her and Colt since he wasn’t born yet.

  I held out my hand to Vivian. “Let me borrow your phone a minute.”


  She pulled it out and handed it over, no question. Well, that’s what friends are for; to be used. I called a phone number from a memorized list. The connection opened and I heard a sleepy voice. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Cassie, it’s Caine.”

  “What do you want that I’m not going to give you?”

  I noticed Kain pretending to be distracted, looking away. That’s how I knew he hung on every word.

  “First,” I said, “Grace sends her love.”

  There was a long silence. “Caine, do you know where my daughter is?”

  “Sure. She’s out here in L.A. I got her a recording deal with a local label. Didn’t she tell you?”

  “Things are, uh, strained between us.”

  I put fake sympathy in my voice. “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah, right. I’ll ask again, what do you want?”

  “You’re still with the PRA, right?”

  Kain looked straight at me. The PRA, Preternatural Reaction Agency, has PRTs—roving teams of agents—that deal only with supernatural threats. I’d surprised him with such a contact.

  “Yeah, so?” Cassie asked.

  “I’m trying to do you a favor here.”

  “How so?”

  “Are all kitsune as suspicious as you?” I asked.

  “No. The unsuspicious ones are all dead.”

  “Look, I know you want to hear about your old buddy Joshua Kent, the wereliger.”

  “He’s in Sacramento, happy and married last I heard.”

  “That’s old news,” I said. “His house burned downed tonight. If you have the ashes stirred, you’ll find evidence of werejackals. The Pride is fine, but on the run. They’ve gone off grid. Keep an eye out for them. I’ll help if I can, and you’d better call me. Anubis himself is behind this. It’s not just a shifter scuffle.”

  “Okay, thanks. It’s decent of you to let me know.”

  Yeah, but I’m not copping to burning down Josh’s house. Act of God. Really; God watched and didn’t stop me. Close enough.

  “One more thing, Cass.” I rattled off the address of the mansion down the street.