Crimson Sword Stalker (Demon Lord Book 10)

by Morgan Blayde

  It saw you coming and ran off would be my guess.

  I returned my gaze to my teenage son, wondering when we’d get the more familiar nine-year-old version back. “You now, Colt, it occurs to me that you need to find yourself a girlfriend, now that you’re almost legal.”

  Vivian cracked eggs into her pan rather loudly. She cursed in a soft voice. The spatula seemed to be acting up as she scraped out broken bits of shell.

  Some people are just not meant to cook.

  I continued with Colt. “You should enjoy your youth. I know! We’ll go shopping. I’ll buy you some French tickler condoms with reservoir tips. A man needs to be responsible or he’ll be taking responsibility, if you know what I mean.

  “It’s covered, dad.”

  Beautiful in red denim jeans and a ruby colored top, Selene set the buttered toast down on the table and took a seat. A hand-sized dust devil of glowing red motes came and went, leaving a jar of boysenberry jam on the table.”

  A goddess always gets what she wants, one way or another. I guessed she’d just ripped off a grocery store without even being there. Goddesses are so above petty things like legality.

  She slathered illicit jam on a piece of toast and dropped it on my plate.

  Vivian scraped crispy-edged eggs out of the pan, onto a paper plate, and came to the table. She sat, not looking at Colt.

  I smiled at them both. “So, you kids have plans for today?”

  They looked at each other, then away. Colt used a nonchalant tone of voice. “Not especially.”

  I widened my smile, grabbing my toast. “Good. Because we’re leaving, taking a road trip south to the bayou. Make sure to pack your machetes, bug repellent, and don’t forget snake-proof wading boots. Might be water moccasins.” I bit into the toast and made appreciative sounds.

  Selene’s eyes beamed in happiness.

  Vivian looked less joyful. “What’s this road trip for?”

  I chewed and swallowed. “Vengeance. It’s time to deal with these vine-tatt mouth-breathing ambush-artists. It sets a bad precedent if I don’t punish those that sin against me.” I smiled at Vivian. “You up for that?”

  Ringo wandered into the dining room. “I sure am. Any Pop-Tarts left?”

  “Cabinet,” Colt pointed, “but just the s’mores. I finished off the cherry last night.”

  I lifted innocent eyebrows. “Oh? I guess we need s’more.”

  Selene shot me a mild, repressive glare, like there’s such a thing as too much fun.

  I ignored her.

  Vivian used a heavy hand salting her eggs and dusted them with pepper. She put them on toast and made a sandwich. “Do you have a plan worked out to deal with these crazies?” The question out of the way, she took a big bite, fangs sinking deep.

  “Do I have a plan? When do I not?” I spooned up some cinnamon-crusted coco squares.

  Good stuff.

  Colt looked at me and lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

  I said, “I’m contracting this job out. The Vine Tribe knows the swamps. They can easily hide in there waiting us out if we go in on a rampage but the gator-shifters know the bayous even better. I’m counting on them cleaning up the Tribe or driving them out of the country.”

  The skin creased between Vivian’s eyes. “Why will the shifters be so helpful? Will Ringo ask them nicely, or is there a bounty? If so, I remind you I don’t work for free.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re a working girl. Got it. What are your rates these days?”

  She reddened in the face. A strange response from a slayer talking cash.

  Selene picked up the plate of buttered toast and thrust it toward me as she kicked me under the table. It hurt as she intended. I looked at her.

  She smiled. “Would you like another?”

  “No, love bug. One is enough.”

  * * *

  The dirt-and-gravel road circled most of the Wilderness Refuge’s central lake. Coming here from Shreveport had taken hours, as had lunch at a Victorian bed-and-breakfast in the small town of Rusty Bridges where we’d checked in and shopped.

  At my prompting, Ringo had made numerous calls from the bed-and-breakfast to friends in the area. Gator-shifters that lived in the surrounding towns, as well as those gone semi-feral in the bayou had agreed to come, Ringo had assured them that this was best, that they needed to know about breaking events, and would kick themselves if they passed up this opportunity.

  The clan leaders had let him know that his promises had better come true, for his sake. He didn’t look worried to me, but then he knew I intended to put on a hell of a show.

  This lake one was different from Cross Lake; it had cypress giants growing out of it. With their partly exposed root systems, the trees looked like they were wearing bell-bottoms. You could hear the croak of amphibians, the splash of fish, and the high-voiced cries of blue herons. The early afternoon sun warmed the water. A hot humid wind wagged past. An occasional snake slithered in the off-road grass, keeping a low profile. I kept a wary eye out for the cottonmouths, though I knew they’d rather avoid trouble and stick to cover.

  Tours were given off in those trees. Deeper in the swamp, there were meandering hiking trails, some of them off-limits during nesting season when momma gators were lying their eggs—and in a hell of a mood.

  There was some kind of giant gerbil or something—the size of a cocker spaniel—with maybe some beaver thrown into the mix. Two of them were in water near the shore, chewing plant stalks, staring with enigmatic eyes, their fur a dark chocolate brown.

  Seeing my gaze, Ringo said, “Those are water rats, nutria, imported from South America. See the webbed paws?”

  My inner dragon opened golden eyes in the back shadows of my mind. He stared at them. Hmmm. They look tasty.

  That’s sure trouble, my friend. You never devour cute animals in front of ladies. They get mad. Besides, those could be on an endangered species list. We could have PETA and the Feds after us.

  He sighed, closed hos golden eyes, and returned to sleep.

  I’d parked the Mustang beside the road. The vehicle kept Ringo’s chopper company. He sat on the front hood of the Mustang, chilling with dark glasses across his double-lidded eyes. When this was all done, I suspected he’d be staying here. The place put him at ease like L.A. never wound.

  Vivian stood at the back of the Mustang, peering into the open truck. She proceeded to Rambo-up, arming herself for action. She settled several guns on her, slipped on a vest filled with wooden stakes, and strapped a katana across her back. In an odd contrast to the weaponry, she wore pink yoga pants and a pink sports bra. It was a younger, more girly vibe than she usually employed.

  Colt’s influence. Scary what a woman will do to hold on to a younger man whose cock she enjoys.

  Selene stood by the edge of the water with Colt. They talked low-voiced, forcing me to strain my hearing to eavesdrop, except Selene had gotten tricky, magically doing something with the wind to muddy their conversation. Colt occasionally shot a worried glance my way. I got the feeling they were talking about me.

  Gratifying yet irritating. They had better be planning a surprise birthday party.

  Our company would soon arrive. We needed to get things moving. I waved a hand in the air. They looked my way. I pointed a finger into the air and pumped it, my signal for Colt and Selene to turn dragon and grab some sky. Instead, Colt stayed there while Selene approached me with a look of concern on her face.

  Interesting.

  She stopped in front of me. “Caine, we need to talk.”

  “Wait, let me guess.” I gave her a look of excessive, shocked surprise. “You’re pregnant!”

  “Very funny, but that’s not it. Colt is concerned to distraction. He has a problem.”

  “One he took to Mom instead of the mission commander.”

  “He knows I have a mother’s heart. What beats in your chest is a mystery to science. Now, I need you to shut-up and listen.”

  When an insane goddess tells you to s
hut-up and listen, you do so, though I couldn’t help giving her a quick salute.

  “Colt is concerned for Vivian. He remembers all too well that she recently nearly died. He remembers her blood all over him. He’s against leaving her on her own—even with Ringo—against who knows how many unpredictable gator-shifters. And there’s the possibility that the vine-tatt asshats may have gotten wind of this meeting and may do something unexpected.”

  “So, what do you suggest?”

  “He wants to stay here and keep an eye on her.”

  “She’s a professional. She has a long history of special ops. She’ll be insulted that he thinks she needs babysitting from an inexperienced boy. And she owes these people a beat-down if they do show. Part of her really wants that and won’t like Colt interfering. Dhampyr pride, such a terrible burden to bear.” I sighed dramatically.

  Selene smiled at my firm grasp of the situation. “Colt needs you to fix it.”

  “I shouldn’t. I should tell Vivian and let her lay down the law to Colt. This kind of thing will come up again. He needs to learn to deal.”

  “You’re right, but I want to indulge him this one time.”

  “Obviously. You’re using that pulsating wind trick to distort our conversation, aren’t you?”

  Otherwise Vivian’s dhampyr hearing would already have caught everything and she’d be taking action.

  Selene sighed. “He’s going to lose her, just not today. Let them share what time there is. His heart will be breaking all too soon.”

  “Which, of course, is your master plan,” I said.

  “The future needs her sacrifice.”

  “One we’re not telling her about because she could say no.”

  “Exactly.”

  My stare took in Vivian. She leaned against the Mustang, looking my way, a frown on her face. She’d realized that she ought to be able to hear us and couldn’t. My innocent stare brought an anxious expression to her face.

  She knows we’re talking about her. Her paranoid streak has her wondering if we know she’s fucking our underage son.

  I smiled to reassure, but it didn’t soothe her.

  Maybe I used the wrong smile. Did I give her my #23 expression instead of #14? Maybe I should brush up on them.

  I’d started cataloging expressions and using them as a child to fit in and not let on I was a borderline sociopath; the secret source of strength. This skill had proven useful over the years. There were only a few expressions I had not yet perfected, mostly from disinterest.

  I looked back to Selene. “What does Colt want me to do? Order him to stay?”

  “Vivian might figure that out and yell at him. He’d rather she didn’t know.”

  “He’s going to hide in her hip pocket?”

  “Something like that. He wants you to put a shadow magic tatt on him, the Demon Wings spell.”

  I gave it a moment’s thought. Theoretically, it could work. Unless he got to throwing around too much power and burned off the mark. But if he needed to do that, he’d have no more use for concealment anyway. “It’s against my better instincts but…okay.”

  Leaving Selene, I walked over to Vivian. “Listen, Colt is concerned for you. You almost died last week, and we’re getting into more trouble soon. I guess you know he has a crush on you.”

  “I, uh, yes. I know.”

  “Do me a favor. When it gets too annoying, let him down easy. You’re his first love. You will be the woman carried longest in his heart. Or so Selene tells me. He’s over there stewing because he wants to tell you how worried he is, but he doesn’t want to make you mad.”

  “That’s…sweet. I’m not mad.”

  “Fine. Go tell him that, give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and send him off. I need a dragon to scare the locals, not a mooncalf.”

  She gave me a lopsided smile and sauntered off. They’d have their moment, and I’d slap the shadow tatt on Colt. He’d fly off, and activate the tatt with his magic, returning invisibly. And then the show would go on.

  Selene drifted over and leaned into my side. We watched the kids as they talked. Talking ended when Vivian grabbed and gave him a bold kiss that all but melted his lips.

  I whispered to Selene. “You know, you could do worse than having Vivian as a daughter-in-law.”

  She looked at me, crimson tears in her eyes. “I know. That’s why I hate having to let her die.”

  “At least it’s not today. So, when exactly?” I was wearing Selene down, wanting whatever information I could get.

  I felt surprise when she answered. “Next month, the Dragon World fiasco. It will make a zombie apocalypse look like a kid’s play-date.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  Ringo had a raised eyebrow. I guess Selene hadn’t bothered to whip the wind and shield our last conversation.

  I gave him a steely glare. “Keep our secrets, and you keep your life.”

  He nodded. “Gotcha, Boss. I didn’t hear a thing.”

  As Vivian walked back toward us, I went toward Colt, ready to do my part in making his life miserable. He looked up from the ground as I reached him. “Thanks, Dad.”

  I smiled. “No problem. You’re my son. I will always give you what you need.”

  If not everything you want.

  I slapped him on the back and left a shadow pattern. The tattoo on my back was made with actual demon blood—demon magic at work. Highly effective. What I put on Colt was a shadow magic equivalent.

  It ought to work the same. In theory,

  THIRTY-TWO

  “The eight-hundred-pound gorilla

  in the room can be useful, but gets

  no bananas until the job is done.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  Colt and I stood by the water as Selene came up to us: one big happy family, all of us with our secrets. The nutria munched and stared, wary but not afraid.

  I nodded to Selene. “Go.”

  She shifted in a heartbeat from human size to dragon. Her wings fanned out, the red, leathery wings catching sunlight, casting me into reddish shadow. On all fours, her long tail poked out over the water. She grinned with many sharp, pointy teeth, and smelled of brimstone.

  Vivian said nothing, leaning against the Mustang once more, her arms crossed under her tits.

  Ringo slid off the hood, staring our way as he removed his sunglasses. “Holy fuck!”

  The dark brown nutria hauled ass and swam away from shore. Diving to get under the cover of water, they flipped us off with long, whip-like tails. The back view was more rat than beaver. I wondered what my Malibu bar would look like with a couple of their heads mounted on the wall, maybe on lemon-wood plaques.

  Maybe the gator-clans can get me some.

  I nodded to Colt. “Your turn.”

  He glowed red-copper, becoming a haze of light that billowed out, sharpened into dragon-shape, and became a smaller dragon. He was half the size of his mom and shared her red coloration except for the yellow flames on his sides, a look Colt had borrowed from many of my Mustangs.

  “Wait for my signal,” I said, “then drop in from the sky.”

  They beat their wings, whipping up a windstorm, and leaped into the sky, thundering away in a big curve as they searched for thermals to give them more lift. Before long, they were up in the sun, lost in its blaze.

  Me, I intended to stay here with Ringo and Vivian—and the ice cooler with the severed arm inside. The cooler also had canned Cokes on ice. I went to get one. The cooler sat on the ground near the rear left tire. I had the lid up, a soda in hand, when I called to the others. “Anybody else want one?”

  “I’ll pass,” Vivian said.

  Ringo lifted a hand. I tossed a can to him underhand. He caught it and wisely waited to open it. No use spraying coke fizz everywhere. With one last look at the arm, I dropped the lid back in place.

  “How much longer do we wait?” Vivian asked.

  “Until Colt’s legal?” I asked.

  She stabbed me with a glare. “What
do you know?”

  “That last kiss, which you made no effort to hide, was quite telling.”

  “I like being up front with things. I only enjoy sneaking around when I’m killing vampires,” she said.

  “I’ve always admired that about you,” I said. “I woman who doesn’t play a lot of games.”

  She sighed. “I didn’t plan any of this. I didn’t want complications—until I had them. I tried to put Colt out of my mind, out of my heart, but I couldn’t resist that innocence, that vulnerability…”

  “The way his tongue worships your body,” I said.

  She sighed again. “I couldn’t let him think I’d used him and just intended to throw him away. I couldn’t leave the shadow of pain in those beautiful red-copper eyes that see to a person’s soul with such deep acceptance.”

  “And then there’s that dragon-sized cock,” I said. “Talk about deep acceptance!”

  “Wait!” Ringo interrupted. “You’re screwing the kid?”

  “Fuck-buddy bunnies in heat see less action than they do,” I said.

  Ringo stared at her.

  She stared at him. And touched the knife strapped to her right thigh.

  He looked away. “Right. None of my business.”

  I heard a soft whump! Back down the road, there were dragon foot prints in the gravel. Colt was back, standing there, eavesdropping.

  Good thing we got the important part of our conversation out of the way.

  Vivian repeated her original question. “So, when do these shifters get here?”

  “Now!” Ringo looked ahead of the Mustang, along the road. A large convey of vehicles rolled our way. He turned his eyes to the water. Bald swimmers with yellow-green eyes climbed naked out of the water, dripping as they neared. There were men and women. They all had double eyelids on each eye, and long, pointy, blocky chins like Ringo. There was stunted webbing between their fingers. The shifters from the water waited in silence as the vehicles parked off the road and more of their clan unloaded, coming our way.

  I’d dressed down for the meeting with an illusion of black shorts, flip-flops, and a loud, green and orange Hawaiian shirt with palm branches and turtles. It was a shirt I’d seen on the Old Man a time or two.