Crimson Sword Stalker (Demon Lord Book 10)

by Morgan Blayde

  I didn’t need to cheat, nor use divine power. My dragon was pissed. He needed something to kill. I kicked off my steel-toed boots and released the illusion of clothing I’d been wearing as I thrust bloody bone from my shoulder blades, letting muscles, tendons, struts, and a circulatory system develop. In a moment, leathery skin covered my wings and my neck and tail bones were popping, multiplying, growing longer.

  Tom charged.

  By the time he got to me, my dragon was out and I loomed not only over him, but everyone: tons of scaly death waiting to happen.

  Tom roared, intending to freeze me like a rabbit.

  It was really funny.

  Tasting copper, I coughed a tangle of yellow lightning that burnt him, filling the air with the stink of singed fur. My open jaws snapped shut. I bit off his head, crunched it with dragon teeth, and spit it out.

  Several werecats jolted in place, clearly freaked.

  Tom’s head bounced off of his collapsed body and kept rolling. One of the few spectators still composed, the werecat guard leaped playfully after it, stopping the roll with curved toes, and used a soccer kick to bring the head back to rest near the body.

  The ultimate predator, I glared at all of the shifters. My golden stare begged for the next challenger to step forward and die.

  No one took me up on it.

  I gave myself a massive shake out, dumping extra mass as golden-mist: veils that shimmered, but were cold and empty as they thinned away. Back to human, wearing the same illusion of clothing as before, I kept a predatory contempt on my face.

  Only Kat and Josh didn’t look away.

  I said, “This city is now mine. Joshua, Kat, I trust you to do what’s best for the shifters that live here as you settle in. I will see that the vampires leave you alone. Anyone who wants to can leave the city—or stay and swear allegiance to the Empire of the Red Moon.”

  “Has it come to that?” Josh asked.

  “It’s time for us all to leave the shadows.” I smiled. The werebears flinched. “And a god of shadow will lead the way.”

  “You’re a god now?” Kat didn’t quite roll her eyes, but it was close.

  I let go of my human image, releasing my god-form: living shadow with gold eyes and blades of light for wings. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’m tired of being amazed. It’s been a long night, and there will be a lot to do tomorrow. We’re going to bed.” She turned and grabbed Josh’s arm, dragging him back toward the cabin.

  Cautious of me, the local shifters gathered up Big Tom and his head and stole away. I called after them. “Say a prayer over him for me.”

  The original two guards returned to the porch steps, taking a seat. The tabby looked at the old grizzly. “You’re going to hang around?”

  “Until you get off shift. Then I thought we’d hit a late-night dinner.”

  “Hit it, huh?”

  “Uhm yeah, I mean. I could also show you the sites of interest—such as they are in the middle of the night.”

  “We’ll go prowwwwwwling.” The werecat said. “Fish and chips?”

  “Suits me fine,” Grizzly rumbled. They were talking about more than food.

  Something in the air? Everyone’s passions are running high.

  Shifting back into my usual Caine Deathwalker look, I found my boots and put them on again. Strolling off toward the second cabin, I cast a glance over at the dock. The kraken floated in the water, mostly submerged, staring ashore at me. His eyes held mild interest, but he seemed too sluggish to care that something powerful was passing him by.

  Too much werejackal. Poor guy’s stuffed.

  I’d read in my studies that kraken have donut shaped brains and their esophagus runs through the middle—which means that overeating can burst their brain. I sensed he’d had a close experience with death here at the all-the-jackal-you-can-eat buffet.

  I pressed on toward my own cabin. The scent of vampire thickened; a musty, peppery parchment smell. There seemed to be yelling going on inside, a lot of voices I didn’t know, and Kain’s gentle murmur in response. I took my next step only to be swallowed in red-copper light. It swirled around me and left just as fast, a flying blob of light that had rounded, rudimentary wings, swimming through the air like a manta ray. It paused midair, curling up to look over its shoulder at me. It’s little whip-like tail wagged once.

  “Yes, yes, Lassie. Timmy’s in the well again and needs a ladder. I’m coming.”

  Apparently, my son needed me. No telling what the problem might be that he didn’t have the power to solve. Maybe he just needed an adult decision.

  I can do that. I decide things all the time. Not that people are happy about that.

  I followed Lassie across the sand where many werejackals had died that day. The dirt looked redder, that was all. Great job of clean up, but I worried that some future vacationer might be playing out here with kids and a human femur bone or something would turn up.

  I went down to the next cabin where the grandma with the shotgun stayed. Lassie gently flapped into the side of the building and vanished.

  Okay, the problem might have a geriatric angle. Maybe the old girl had a stroke.

  I went up the steps, through a screen door, onto the porch. I supposed I could have gone-to-shadow and walked through an outside wall, but that would have been unnecessarily rude.

  There was blood on the porch. Fresh blood. I quickened my stride. The door into the large rental cabin stood open. I paused, pushing it wider, my senses straining for sounds, smells, movements.

  I stepped in. Light from the kitchen spilled into the living room, where a floor corner lamp created an amber glow. On the floor, Granny lay dead, her shotgun near her hand. She sprawled on her back. Her four tipped cane stood beside her, keeping lonely vigil. She still wore her baggy mom jeans and a teal green NRA tee shirt. No pink sweater this time.

  She wore a surprised expression on her face that was easy to read: What! How the hell can I be dead? AAPR should do something about this.

  There were slashes and stab wounds all around her torso. She’d bled—lots—but there was more blood than one body accounted for. Her dead eyes stared at the ceiling.

  I looked into the kitchen/dining room. Craig lay on the table, on his back, where he’d fallen. He still clenched a bloody knife in his hand. His throat gapped, cut open, exposing muscle and severed arteries, veins, and bone. His shirt was drenched in blood. Craig looked very dead.

  Sad. Vivian’s going to have to start over with a new slayer trainee.

  I dipped low and snatched up the shotgun. I broke open the middle. There were two shells inside that hadn’t been fired. Someone had taken her out fast. I closed the gun’s breach. Clink!

  “Dad! In here.” Colt’s voice came from an open door at the mouth of the lit hallway. I hurried over.

  Whatever happened here is over. This is going to be about picking up the pieces.

  I pushed open the door and went into a guest bedroom. Lassie was nowhere to be seen. The sixteen-year-old version of Colt sat on the edge of a queen-sized bed. He was naked and covered with blood. More blood splattered the bedspread behind him. Someone was under covers, a motionless mass. On the rug at Colt’s bare feet were his clothes. They were bloody and torn to ribbons.

  I looked straight down at the carpet near my own feet. There was half a right arm there. It looked human and had been roughly ripped off somebody. There was a lot blood around it. The wrist had a spiraling tattoo of a jungle vine with small leaves. The pattern came halfway up the forearm.

  I didn’t know the tatt, what it symbolized, what group might be known for wearing it. I memorized the pattern for later research. There’d be more vine-wrapped bodies if I had to kill them myself. They’d targeted my son.

  My son!

  A cold knot of anger formed in my guts.

  I lifted my gaze to Colt. Something looked off with his expression: he wore a dazed, shocked look, his awareness not quite in the present.

  �
�You’re all right?” I asked.

  He gave me a small shudder to interpret. “No. I don’t think so.”

  I looked past him at the piled-up bedding. “Colt, is that Vivian? Is she…”

  “Dead? No. She’s just…sleeping, tired...strung out. I covered her. She’s naked and covered in blood. It’s her blood; she fought them to protect me. Got in my way. They cut her up bad before I could stop them. Cursed weapons. Her wounds refused to close. Being dhampyr didn’t help her. I had to feed her my blood to heal her.”

  He looked at his arm. There was no wound or even scar, just a clean patch where blood had been licked. He went on, determined to say it all. “They portalled in: magic users and warriors.” He looked down at the arm on the floor. “They left the same way but I grabbed one of them. The portal…closed, and that arm is all that’s left.” He closed his eyes tight. “Dad, I…” There was pain in his voice.

  I stepped over the arm and approached the bed. Through the iron blood smell, I picked up Vivian’s scent and the smell of intense, messy sex. I stopped and looked at Colt’s piled-up clothes. My own clothes often looked like that when Selene wanted to play.

  “You got lucky?”

  “Vivian raped me. A lot. Wouldn’t stop. Dad, is it wrong that I liked it?”

  Of all the people you could have asked. Wait, was this his first time? Kid could be scared for life. I better watch how I handle this. Selene could yell at me…or cut off my balls.

  I knelt by the bed and looked into his stunned face. “Nothing here is your fault, or hers either. You’re both victims.”

  Statutory rape. Colt is too young to consented, despite panting after her sexy ass. And Vivian’s not at fault either. My blood intoxicated her before I became a god. Colt is a demigod. His blood would have snapped her weakened inhibitions like a rotted twig. Colt’s deflowerment is a natural side effect of the emergency treatment that saved Vivian’s life.

  “I wanted her, dad. But, the blood, all over her, and then she was all over me. And all I could feel, smell, and taste was her blood. It made me so hard.” He gave me a wide-eyed stare. “Dad, that can’t be right, can it?”

  “Perfectly natural. You have dragon blood from both parents. Your dragon is going through puberty, reinforcing your responses. Colt, just believe me. You did nothing wrong. I’d know; that’s my area of expertise. Now, I’m going to see if I can have a rational conversation with Vivian. I want you to go find the bathroom and take a long, hot shower. Get the blood out of your head. Both of them.” I noticed he still sported an erection. “Then get dressed. You’re going to want to burn the clothes on the floor.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Shame and sex don’t belong

  together any more than raw

  sardines and maple ice cream.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  The door closed behind Colt’s nakedness as he went to take his shower and get unbloody.

  I felt pity for him, and relief for me that my own legendary length still held the world record. I hadn’t whipped out a tape measure for confirmation; that would have skirted deviancy and made me look insecure. I’m better than that. Really.

  I sat on the bed and turned to look at the lump under the bloodstained covers. “He’s gone. You can stop hiding.”

  She flipped the covers back from her face. Blood smeared her chin and neck. She glared at me with teary, pink-lit eyes. “I’m not hiding. Just…figuring things out.”

  “I assume you heard what I told Colt.”

  “I heard.” She closed her eyes and let her head fall back to the bed. “Oh, god! I raped a child.”

  “Technically, that’s true, but diminished capacity applies. I understand you’d taken heavy damage with multiple cursed weapons, and your guts were all but hanging out. Your dhampyr powers weren’t healing you, and Colt made you drink from him in order to survive.” She knew all this, but I wanted to hammer home the truths of the situation. The sooner she came to grips with this, the sooner we could all move on to fresh traumas.

  “By the way, condolences on the loss of Craig. He had potential.”

  She groaned piteously. “I’m going to have to call his mother. She thinks he does freelance security for a big national outfit. How do I explain this?”

  I shrugged. “Just tell her a feral liberal knifed him outside a vegan restaurant because he had a red Trump hat on.”

  She thought a few seconds. “That could work.” Panic returned to her face. “I need to get out of here before Colt comes back. I don’t know what I can say to him. How can I even look him in the eyes? I broke his innocence. I’m his first. Do you know what that means?”

  “He’s an incredibly lucky kid? That you’re the one fuck he will never forget. Once he gets past the shock of it all, he’ll come around for seconds, or thirds. I would. You’ll have to let him down easy if you’re not interested.”

  “Interested? That’s not even an issue. He’s underage. Jailbait. His mom will kill me!”

  I wasn’t so sure. I thought of how young Colt had been pulled out by Selene, and how sixteen-year-old Colt had taken his place. There was a possibility that Selene had known of this attack and had arranged to take advantage of it. That would mean she was steering Colt away from long-lasting relationships, keeping herself as the dominant female influence in his life.

  Dragon mothers are beyond possessive of their young.

  Now that I thought about it, she treated me the same way with my harem. As long as my human relationships stayed shallow, she didn’t mind. She only demanded strict monogamy from my inner dragon.

  Poor bastard.

  Vivian kicked away the covers. She was indeed naked and covered with dried blood. There were no open wounds, not even scars. Colt’s blood had completely healed her as it had fueled her blood thirst and her sex drive. “Where are my clothes?”

  “They might be mixed in with those shredded on the floor.”

  “I’ll wear a blanket.” She leaped off the bed. “I’ll get a clean one from one of the other bedrooms. I can go next door and get a change of clothes from my luggage.”

  “Umm, no, you can’t.”

  She froze. “I can’t?”

  “No. Two reasons: one; a lot of vampires are over there with Kain. You walk in with bloody skin, naked, it will be like you’re inviting yourself to a gangbang feeding. They’ll mistake you for a blood whore. Second: you and Colt need to clean up the mess here before baling. Otherwise, this will look like a serial killing to the cops. I want our kind to come out of the closet, but not in a way that scares folks.

  “I suspect Granny has dead family in the other rooms. Colt’s magic can dispose of fingerprints, DNA, and bodies. You need to supervise, make sure he’s thorough. And you need to provide fan service while you do it. Stay naked. Show him you’re comfortable in your skin, unashamed. Proud. It will go a long way to balancing his world view. Don’t treat his first sexual experience as a shameful crime. Also, your exposure will get him thinking dirty thoughts which means you’ll have to talk to him; get it clear that there won’t be a follow up, even as you test his restraint.”

  Vivian’s eyes were bright pink stars. “I’ll be torturing him!”

  I grinned. “Yes, you will. But suffering is good for the soul. When you’re done, you’ll leave him with a naked hug and eventually both of you will get back being family as his Aunt Vivian. Whom he once accidentally fucked.”

  “I don’t know if I can manage that.”

  “You will because you have too. You need to display the same comfort in your skin that the shifters have.”

  “I can’t!”

  “Okay, maybe provocative will do instead. Go borrow a tee shirt from Granny. She won’t mind.”

  Vivian’s eyes dimmed. “She’s past caring. Nice old woman. She invited us in for late night s’mores. After seeing the werejackal attack earlier, she had trouble sleeping. I think she wanted company. Wanted to talk.”

  “Sleeping won’t be a problem anymore.”r />
  I got off the bed. “I’ll bring you back a change of clothes.”

  “Wait a second. You were wounded and abducted, last I heard. Are you all right?”

  “Sure. Haven’t you heard? I’m invulnerable, the new me.”

  “No one’s indestructible who has family to protect. Our loved ones are our weaknesses but also our strength.”

  “Believe it or not, I know.” I walked past her, out into the hall. I heard the sound of a shower still underway.

  Kid’s stalling.

  I turned and transformed into shadow, willing myself to rise and drift like a ghost as blades of golden light fanned from my back. I heard Vivian’s gasp behind me as she left the room.

  I didn’t look back. I drifted out the side of the building and flew toward my cabin. I approached the dark side of the building and stepped through the wall, into a hallway. I ghosted to the door, poking my head through the wood, looking inside. My and Colt’s bags sat on the bed. Nine-year-old Colt’s stuff wasn’t going to fit his older self, but then, he could conjure up fresh clothing for himself. Vivian couldn’t.

  I withdrew and went to the next door. I poked my head through and saw male stuff on the dresser. Craig’s stuff. Craig’s room.

  I pulled back out and drifted down to the next door, sticking my head through it. I saw Vivian’s stuff. I ghosted all the way through her door and drifted around, getting shirt, jeans, and a jacket. I carried them back to the door and walked through it, again without opening it.

  I sensed a presence and turned my head. A low-level vamp stood there in a cheap suit. He stared, a stranger to me. In my god-form, I bet I was even stranger to him. I startled him so badly, his heart beat. Though it wouldn’t show in my shadow form, I grinned. And waved. Nonchalant, I turned away and drifted down the hallway. When I reached the far wall, I ghosted outside.

  I returned to Granny’s rental cabin, flew through the wall and found Vivian and Colt sitting on a couch, talking—not quite looking in each other’s eyes. They fell quiet and looked at me as I arrived. Colt looked troubled. “Dad? That’s you?”