Crimson Sword Stalker (Demon Lord Book 10)

by Morgan Blayde

  “What’s there?” she asked.

  “Murdered family. More of Anubis’ work. You may want to process the scene and come up with a cover story. The government doesn’t want people wondering if there might be zombies and other monsters loose in the world, right? People will go back to being an armed society that’s harder to control. Can’t have that.”

  “Caine, it’s getting out; creditable sources have footage of you in dragon form, running amok in Las Vega and elsewhere.”

  “The lid’s coming off. And the world needs to know. About some of it. Here’s another word of warning: an extra-dimensional war is coming. Check with your government seers. All the timelines into the future contain the Earth’s invasion. Sadly, I’m the hope of the planet, but I can’t do what’s needed in the shadows. There’s still time to bring preternaturals out in a controlled manner though. I recommend your bosses give it thought.”

  “Caine, there are a lot of people in high places that will hate that, but I’ve heard the rumblings from the clairvoyant crowd. I’ll do what I can. Meanwhile, keep a sharp eye on my baby girl. She’s my life.”

  “Why are you feuding, anyway?”

  “Goodbye, Caine.” She ended the call.

  I handed Vivian back her phone.

  I had a shadow-tatt on me that connected me to my armory and the weapons there. With a thought, I sent my titanium katana back to Malibu. That out of the way, I turned my attention to my host.

  “Kain, you need to do something with all these zombie body parts. I recommend you have them all trash bagged and hauled over to the other estate. No one has to know they didn’t die here. The feds will dispose of the remains for you.”

  “Who is Cass and Grace?” he asked. “And you mentioned kitsune, Japanese fox spirits?”

  The Red Centipede Rider rode her monster past us. We all moved aside. The insect ought to be well glutted but why take chances? The Rider called down to me. “Ready to go?”

  “Sure, been a long night and I need my beauty sleep.” I grinned at Kain, still ignoring his questions. “It’s been a fun party. Thanks for having me.” With a jump, I avoided the centipede’s pincers and dropped behind its head where I settled behind the warrior-goddess, wrapping my arms around her middle. She nudged the centipede with her heels and we undulated off into the night. We rippled along with the centipede’s leg-tips clicking on the pavement.

  Yeah, I could have opened a portal straight back to the Demon Clan House, but I was determined to sow the seeds of revelation across L.A. Supernaturals were going from deep dark secret, to open secret with many still doubtful. Urban Legend sightings of dragons and centipede-riding-goddesses were my way of nudging the truth out into the light.

  A little carelessness goes a long way.

  I spoke into the Rider’s ear. “So, you’re saving yourself for the mightiest sword man out there, huh?”

  She loosened my grip and turned to sit facing me, letting the centipede find his own way. A grin brightened her expression. “You’ve seen my sword work. Do you think you’re up to it?”

  “If we’re only talking sword work, strength, and endurance—no magic—I’ve still got a good chance. I’ve only ever met one person I thought might be a shade better with a blade.”

  “Oh, who’s that?”

  “The Lord of the Phantom Court in Fairy. One of these days, I’m going to take him on again and try for a decisive win.”

  “Everyone needs to challenge their skills to raise them higher.”

  “That’s the real reason you took that vow, right? As dangerous as you are, few people would come to test you if you hadn’t sweetened the pot. You play at simplicity, but like a crystal pool, you run unexpectedly deep.”

  It was a revelation to me.

  “Let’s just keep that between the two of us, okay?”

  “Are you sure you’re a real virgin?”

  She laughed, reaching between us to give my half-mast erection a playful little wiggle. “Only one way you’ll ever know, demon-who-is-not-a-demon.”

  “Careful,” I said. “That’s been known to go off without warning.”

  NINE

  “A father’s son is his immortality,

  and a frequent pain in the ass.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  Still naked, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, I stood in my bedroom in the Clan House on Santa Catalina island. Light from the bathroom and an end table lamp created zones of light. The quiet solitude of very early morning let me focus my thoughts. I do my best thinking drunk and without distractions.

  I had several grimoires out on my bed for reference as well as a round cylinder with cuneiform writing on it, stolen from the British Museum. I hadn’t asked them for it, but I just know they would want me to save all humanity with it—had they known our future was at stake.

  I faced the full-length mirror, concentrating my shadow magic on my ass, where Selene had slapped the spell I’d been constructing. It wasn’t refined. I dared not energize it, but I could move it to where I had an easier time working on it. My shadow swallowed the tatt. I shifted the splotch up my back, over my shoulder, and down to my stomach were the mirror reflected it to me. The darkness sank deeper into me, and I studied the crimson pattern.

  My subconscious had already come up with a few improvements. One was an alternate power source to shadow magic and my golden dragon magic. If I were damaged enough, such energies might be compromised as well. Fairy would take care of me if I were in Fairy, but outworld, this too might become chancy. The one constant in a living universe is death itself. They age and die, just on a vast scale of time.

  If I can necromantically tie into entropy, the dying universe’s energy will give me life until the cosmos is completely gone.

  I added lines of shadow to the red design: Theta, a god-symbol for Thanos—Death—putting it at the core of a monkey-tail spiral, a Mayan symbol for eternity. I added a minor demon glyph to link the power system to the existing spell, then drained the whiskey bottle. The pleasant, smoky burn jolted me pleasantly.

  Magic is thirsty work.

  I set the empty aside and picked up one of the spell books. If everything wasn’t perfect, I could wind up cursing myself to eternal death, no afterlife, no wheel of life, nothing. Ever. This had to be right. I checked the writing and symbols by holding the book against my chest, also facing the mirror. This way, mirror-reverse errors could be spotted. The tatt and the book should match. Flipping pages, I pored over every last element until I was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure of perfection.

  Time for my second problem: Colt. If I had god-like powers and a sneaky evil bastard of a father frequently causing me trouble, I’d keep a discreet eye on him. I didn’t believe Colt was as out of touch as we all thought. I needed to provoke him into an appearance. But first…

  I turned my back on the mirror and went to my dresser. I opened a drawer and pulled out some sweats, dressing fast. If I was wrong about my Reboot Spell, at least I’d have some small dignity in death.

  I drew a deep breath and spoke into the stillness of my room. “Colt, in case this is my final act and your old man winds up killing himself—or worse—I hope you know that I have always loved you and couldn’t be prouder. You will always be a better man than I have ever managed. Goodbye.”

  I washed the red from my tatt with shadow magic and drew raw golden voltage from my core, letting dragon magic crackle over my limbs and wreath my torso. Golden light strobed the room. I willed all that power to converge on my new tatt, warming my flesh and kindling the spell to life. I felt like Dr. Frankenstein calling down the lightning of the storm into my monster.

  My breath caught. I felt my heart stop. I hadn’t expected that—by aligning myself with cosmic death—I’d kill myself. I staggered, crumpled to the carpet, and sprawled, rolling onto my back so I could stare up at the ceiling. The golden crackling over my body settled down. I smelled the stench of burnt carpet as my shadow tatt went icy cold, frosting my stomach.
r />   Inverted entropy. Warmth becomes cold. Interesting.

  Undead, I waited for Colt to come. Or the Light.

  Dead people are supposed to go into the Light, right? No, wait. That’s for people Heaven wants. Okay, where are the demon reapers that gather the souls of the evil dead.

  It hit me then, what I’d always halfway believed; Satan feared me taking over, kicking him off Hell’s throne.

  That pussy isn’t going to let me in, pansy-assed bitch!

  I continued to wait, the fingers of my right hand drummed on the floor.

  C’mon, Colt. I’ve done gone and killed myself. Come by and at least shake your head sadly at me. A shed tear wouldn’t be inappropriate.

  I was about to give up, stand up, and shut down the powered-up spell, when copper-red light flared, a disk opening up in the air near my feet. My hand had stopped drumming. An older version of Colt stepped out of the magic portal and stared down at me, his face stripped of emotions.

  I wondered from where in our future he’d come. I’d met him in Fairy, same mid-night red hair, same lean muscled form. He’d abandoned his younger self’s skull-faced, black-and-white hoodie, wearing black jeans and a black sleeveless tee. His hands were encased by fingerless half-gloves. Around his right bicep was a three-strand barbwire tatt with blood-beads on several points. Strapped across his back was a black-lacquered sheath. The hilt shimmered with infernal light. It was the demon sword I used to own, the one I’d given his younger self. The copper-red portal closed behind him.

  Shadows rushed in to mute him as he walked along my right side, still looking down at me. He squatted. His voice came out raw, as if he’d recently been screaming. “Still playing games?”

  I sighed. “It’s what I do, but I do need to talk to you.”

  “So, talk.”

  Before I could, another copper-red portal opened, a smaller one. Nine-year-old Colt stepped out of this one, familiar black hoodie with white skull on it. The hood was thrown back. His eyes were bright, aglow with light. He carried a slim, three-foot branch stripped of leaves. It looked like something for roasting marshmallows.

  That thought made me hungry.

  Staring up at the ceiling, I played dead as he walked along my left side and stopped. He used the stick to poke my cheek. I gave no response. He squatted down and looked at his older self across my body. “Is he dead, dead drunk, or being a jerk?”

  Older Colt said. “Even dead, he will always be an ass.”

  “He’s not breathing,” Younger Colt said.

  “New tatt. It locks him is a biological stasis until it’s powered-down,” Older Colt explained.

  I lifted a hand and waved. “Hi, Colt. Came as a surprise to me, too.”

  “Not to me,” Older Colt said. “This is on Mom’s list of things that must happen for the future to survive. She calls it Plan A. Congratulations; right on schedule. However, for trying to use this to manipulate us…”

  Younger Colt thrust an accusing finger in front of my nose. “Bad Dad. Bad Dad!” he yelled.

  “I do the best I can,” I said. “I missed you.”

  Older Colt gave me a broken laugh; there and gone. “Give it up. We’re not falling for it.”

  “I’m a fey high king,” I said. “I can’t lie anymore, so pay attention. Broken monster that I am—I love you both.”

  If the truth manipulates them, that can hardly be my fault.

  “I’m down now, so if you want to kick me, go ahead. If my pain can make you happy, I’m fine with that.”

  I needed to test my new spell anyway.

  Older Cain pulled his hunting knife and held it a moment, looking for fear in my face. “Are you sure?”

  I grinned; like he’d stab his only father...

  He buried the knife in my non-beating heart and let go, leaving the hilt poking up,

  Fuck me blind! He did it.

  I stared at the hilt.

  “Always wanted to do that.” He stood and looked down at me, face stripped of emotion. And kicked me in the ribs. I felt several of them break. “Aren’t you glad you called for me?”

  His kick rolled me toward Younger Colt. His face showed profound shock. He hadn’t known this was going to happen. I rolled onto my back once more, wondering if my right lung had been pierced by broken ribs. Hard to tell when you’re not breathing. It occurred to me that this was what a vampire experienced. Undead, vulnerable, driven to survive at all costs. I didn’t think Older Colt would go much farther.

  “Why don’t you look happy?” I pulled the knife from my chest and held it up, hilt first. “And why stop? Don’t I deserve all your anger? This is your chance to purge your demons.”

  Older Colt looked at the knife, snatched it from my hand, and returned it to his sheath. “Sorry, can’t. If I let go, I won’t be able to stop. You sent her out, knowing she’d die. I can never forgive you for that.”

  “Who? Who did I let die?”

  “Mom says we’re not allowed to tell you. Apparently, it needs to happen. Not that I can ever forgive you.” Face still empty, he turned and walked to Younger Colts still-open portal. He ducked in and rode the portal away.

  I touched the hole in my chest. No bright red arterial blood spurted.

  No pumping heart to drive blood flow. Still hurts like hell.

  I turned my head toward younger Colt. “Your turn. I still got some unbroken ribs on the left side.”

  Colt said, “Mom says we shouldn’t blame you for everything that goes wrong. She says it’s not okay to hate you. That we need someone who can make the hard decisions for defeating the Unzar. She says there are always casualties in war.”

  “She’s right,” I said. “She told all that to you because she knew your older self wouldn’t listen. I hope you’ll listen to me. I did this because it’s important that we touch base.”

  Fey king here, can’t lie any more. Man, that will cramp my style.

  “I believe you.” He turned his head toward his open portal. “I won’t later.” He turned his young eyes back to me. They brimmed with unshed tears. The dying glow of his copper-red eyes made it seem like he was about to cry red diamonds. “I’m sorry.”

  I sighed. “The heart is a stubborn beast. It sinks its teeth into a feeling and won’t let go, no matter how much hurt follows. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re on my side—as long as it lasts. I will always do what’s needed to keep you safe. If that’s going to be a problem, it’s not one I can help either.”

  He used a finger to swipe his eyes, clearing the tears away. “So, this new tatt…”

  “Let’s find out if it does what it’s supposed to do.” I used a thought, withdrawing the flow of shadow magic to it. The part of the spell hooking me up to universal entropy hadn’t engaged. My fey shadow magic and my Villager shadow magic had been enough. Now that those energies were gone, the tatt went dormant. Only twenty-five percent physical damage would make it automatically click in after this.

  I drew a deep breath. Yep, lungs were pierced. Blood spurted from my chest wound, once, then the wound closed. The pain in my side receded as the broken ribs popped back to where they were supposed to be.

  Spell works great, at least on a low-level restoration.

  “Dad?”

  I sat up and turned, still sitting, to face my son. “Good as knew. Listen, as long as you’re here, I need to talk to you. Can you power down the portal and stay a while?”

  “You’re not going to try and make me go home, are you?”

  “You’re with me. You are home.”

  That surprised him. Relaxing, he settled back, getting comfortable with his feet crossed under him. The disk of energy dwindled and died. “Okay.”

  “I’ve been to Kat’s home in Sacramento. Anubis sent his minions against us. The house is burnt toast. I hope she has insurance.”

  Colt shrugged.

  I continued. “They hit again at Vampire Kain’s mansion in Bel Air. I have a lot of reason for going after Anubis, but I can’t
do it alone. I need you and your mom.”

  “I’m mad at her.”

  “Why?”

  “She doesn’t want me to have a harem. And she says I need to get rid of Zahra.”

  “And?”

  “That’s it.”

  Oh, I thought there’d be more.

  “Dad! She’s my first. My collection is just getting started.”

  “She’s not your first.”

  “The skin-walker in Vegas doesn’t count. She was evil and she lied.”

  “Okay. Did your mom give you a reason?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I thought she was joking at first. She says she’s going to make me the perfect woman so I don’t need to gather girl-toys I won’t want later.”

  “That’s not a joke?”

  He glared. “I found a new secret laboratory. There were cloning vats. She’s growing people! That’s just wrong.”

  I thought of all the clone versions of me in Selene’s jewelry salons in Talon City, Europa, the sixth closest moon of Jupiter. The buried city was better known as the Underground. It connected to hundreds of realities, the ultimate market. I knew she planned to clone members of my inner circle. She’d said something about our first encounter with the Unzar teaching her need for a lot of spare body parts on hand. Apparently, all this had been withheld from Colt.

  Maybe for good reason. Still caught in linear time, how would I know?

  I sighed. “She’s still your mom. Look, who you have in your life—when it comes time for serious relationships—is up to you. Older Colt stands up to Selene, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So, is there a problem in giving up the harem if you get to keep Zahra as a friend? I mean, you can have all the friends you want while still devoting a lot of time and energy to training. And maybe, if you hone your powers so you can fight at my side against the Unzar, fewer people will die. Maybe your future self’s anger at me comes from buried rage at himself. Maybe he doesn’t like the thought that if he’d been more prepared, whoever I sent to die might have been saved. We all play games with our hearts, seldom taking them out for honest inspection.” I grinned at him. “You know, my greatest strength is that I know I’m an utter bastard that makes even demons look good.”