Demon Walking (Dragon Point Book 6)

by Eve Langlais

  “Last I saw her, she was sleeping beside me. When I awoke, she was gone.”

  “Likely story. I know you two weren’t sleeping together. Elsie’s a good girl. Which is fucking rare and beautiful. If you ruined her…” Babette swung the fist with the cuffs. He ducked.

  “Last night was the first time.”

  Babette stopped, bouncing on the balls of her feet to snicker. “First time. That’s funny. Guess it’s been a while since we could say that.”

  Given he wasn’t about to admit his shame, he turned his head.

  “Holy shit.” She punched his arm. “Do not tell me you were a virgin. Two fucking virgins. Oh my God. Is that why you killed all those girls? None of them managed to get your gander going? Did you ever think of grabbing men instead?”

  He blinked at Babette. “I now see where Elspeth gets some of her logic from. For the last time, I didn’t kill anyone. Or kidnap anyone. I need you to concentrate for a minute. Listen to what I have to say. Elspeth is missing.”

  “Because you hid her?” Babette said on a querying note.

  “No! I would kill for Elspeth. Burn the world down to ash if she asked. She is my universe. My everything. The—”

  “Dude, I get it.” Babette held up a hand. “Let’s stop before you have me puking. Let’s say I believe you. That you had nothing to do with it. Explain why the evidence leads here.”

  “What evidence?”

  She began to tick off her fingers. “Uber records for two of the victims. Cell phone triangulation for three more. And then there’s the fact that a spectral trace done on the most recent body showed it dying in this castle.”

  “What is a spectral trace?”

  “If the brain hasn’t decomposed too much, there is a thing we can do. It requires a reputable medium, who doesn’t mind getting dirty in a paste made of body parts and spider spit. The medium sticks their hands in it, and they instantly know the exact location of death.”

  “Do they also see the face of the killer?”

  “Actually, they see nothing. Not even the death itself. But don’t think that gets you off the hook. One of those murders happened here. In this house.”

  “According to your magician. Perhaps their spell is flawed because I didn’t do it.”

  Babette chewed her lip. “I want to believe you, but…let’s say I do, who else could it be? Who else lives here?”

  “Only Alfred and, well, you’ve met him.”

  “I have. He’s a snotty sort. Where did you find him?”

  “Right in this very castle. He was tending it for his previous master.”

  “Don’t you mean mistress?” Babette tilted her head. “This castle was being used as a B&B by a Mrs. Chesterville. She hasn’t been seen in over two months. Not since you took over. Did you get rid of her?”

  “Me?” No need to feign shock when it burst out of him in that exclamation. “You cannot blame me for her disappearance. I’ve been here less than two weeks.”

  “Impossible. The girls started going missing before that.”

  “Because I am not responsible. Like I’ve been saying.”

  A furrow formed on Babette’s brow. “But if you’re not to blame, and Elspeth is missing, who took her?”

  The cleaning crew? Some unknown agent?

  “When was the last time you saw your butler?” Babette asked.

  “Alfred?” Surely not.

  He took off with long strides toward the area he knew Alfred had taken as his own. As he approached the door off the kitchen that led to Alfred’s quarters, he suddenly veered, heading back for the main part of the house.

  He noticed Babette frowning from the door. “Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “You look like you’re confused about where Alfred lives.”

  “Nonsense. He lives off the kitchen, there.” He pointed over his shoulder.

  “Then why are you going this way?”

  “Because…” He stopped. Why had he turned around?

  He peered behind him at Alfred’s door, recalling how he’d wanted to go in, but now… Why did he need to go see? How ridiculous to think an old human could have the power to abduct a dragon as capable as Elspeth.

  It just wasn’t likely.

  Which meant it wouldn’t hurt to look and see how Alfred lived past that door. He whirled and approached the portal and managed a hand on the knob before he was strongly reminded why he shouldn’t enter someone else’s private space.

  It’s rude.

  He turned away and noticed Babette close to him, gaping. “Dude, that was freaky cool. My turn. Let’s see if the door makes me walk away and look like a zombie.”

  Luc didn’t understand what she meant as she stepped past him, humming, “Gonna make it to the door and open it and look at me reaching and…” She paused and pivoted, her eyes out of focus.

  Utterly fascinating. “I never even saw the spell,” he mused aloud. However, now that he knew…

  Luc took a few deep breaths and placed his hands together to focus. He mumbled words under his breath using the language of magic his mother had taught him, a series of guttural vowels and fluting consonants. The noise fluttered to take shape and then pulsed as he fed power into it.

  A blanket of magic, a shimmer in the air, spread in front of him and moved as he took a step toward the door.

  Within a pace of it, his shield quivered and appeared as a greenish mist in the air, but it worked. In the sticky web he’d cast, he’d snared the edges of the spell guarding the door.

  He blew a few more words into his web, heating them with his breath, fanning them to hotly spread into the shield. It warmed, growing hotter and hotter, binding the other spell in its grasp until whoosh. The whole thing ignited, and the magical aftermath drifted like motes of sparkling dust.

  “Dude, that was all kinds of cool,” Babette breathed in admiration. “No wonder Elsie likes you. You’d be awesome at parties.”

  The attempt at levity did not quell his sense of urgency as he finally flung open the door leading to Alfred’s quarters.

  He’d never realized the castle had two wings. The half he’d chosen to live in was vast, impressively appointed, and too much space for Luc.

  That space was mirrored in this wing. It turned out that the kitchen door wasn’t the only entrance sealed by magic.

  He’d never seen it.

  The fact that Alfred literally lived like a king in the wing next to him astonished. The farther they penetrated, the more stunned they became. Babette was particularly impressed by the mess.

  “Dude, Alfred is a massive hoarder.”

  “He’s a collector, all right,” he repeated. Especially of food. Sweets reigned supreme. Rooms filled with boxes of candy. There were also chocolate bars and licorice. Minty peppermints and sour gummies. The goodies, though, were less disturbing than the room with chains dangling from the ceiling and blood on the floor, brown and black stains that obscured a drawing

  He still recognized it.

  “That’s a triangle of power.” He pointed.

  “What does it do?” Babette skirted the waxed edges of it.

  “It’s a focus to enhance a spell.” At Babette’s blank look, he expanded his description. “Magic is like a very fine powder. When gathered together, it’s dense, but without something to keep it bound, it falls apart. It’s the decay in a spell. Magic users expect it. But sometimes, to conserve magic or keep it from dispersing as quickly during bigger undertakings, a magical triangle is used.”

  “What you’re saying is that this is some kind of demon magic thing?”

  “Yes.” Luc exited the room with its stink of magic—and death.

  “Is that your triangle?”

  “No.”

  “Which means, Alfred’s a demon.”

  “Impossible. He smells human.”

  “Dude, that is not seriously hard to fake. Follow me.”

  Luc kept pace with Babette, who took the stairs to the second level wi
th the bedrooms.

  “Where are we going?” he asked. “And what did you mean that it wasn’t hard to fake? Is it possible to change one’s scent that thoroughly?”

  “With today’s perfume and the science labs to create them, we can smell like anything we want. Don’t your people have a demon recipe to do the same? Some kind of magic spell?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I never had access to all our teachings.”

  “But you know about some of your history and traditions.”

  “As much as my mother and the others could teach me before their demise. The rest I learned from reading.”

  “They brought you books?” Babette flung open doors on the second level as she asked. More spaces crammed with stuff.

  “They had no choice if they wanted to learn. The dragon mages, even Voadicia, had difficulty learning our written language. Mother claimed it was because only those of the blood—demon blood,” he explained, “could read our words. When Maedoc and Eogan chose to keep me, they didn’t do so out of altruism.” They’d used Luc, bringing him books with promises of treats if he translated for them.

  “Where does Alfred fit into all this?” Babette asked, pulling her head out of a room filled floor to ceiling in teetering piles of jeans.

  “I don’t know.” How did a human get involved in the affairs of demons and dragons?

  Babette marched down the carpeted hall, the cushion of the tight weave not allowing for a satisfying stomp. At the end of the corridor, she flung open the wide double doors.

  Given Alfred’s scent was strongest here, he wondered what they would find in the master suite.

  “This is way nicer than what I have,” Luc remarked, noticing a level of luxury he didn’t enjoy.

  A gigantic bed with a plush, burgundy cover and plump pillows. The four-poster held diaphanous scarves, and he had to turn away lest he think of Alfred using them.

  He stepped farther into the room and noted Babette lifting a lacy undergarment with the tip of her boot. “These are perfect for the sniffers.”

  “Are they good at following scent?”

  Babette blinked at him then snickered. “Oh, they like to smell stuff, all right. And pay to do it.”

  Since he didn’t understand—and probably didn’t want to—he stepped away from the bedroom area and headed toward the bathroom. The place where a person was most likely to have their guard down—and leave a trace.

  The huge, marble-covered room held an antiseptic smell.

  “It’s spotless,” Babette remarked from behind him.

  A little too clean given the state of the bedroom. Jars were lined up on the vanity.

  Babette pulled them forth and lifted the stopper on the first jar. She smelled. “Minty with a hint of bleach. Probably for his teeth.” She went to the next. Dabbed her finger in some cream and watched her finger prune. “That is some seriously messed-up, backwards and forwards aging shit.” Indeed, making something older rather than younger. Who would do that unless…

  “Hey, this cream makes it young again.” She held up her finger, now plump and healthy.

  “The last one will be scent,” he predicted as she yanked on the last stopper.

  She leaned down to sniff then turned her head to say. “Human. An old, human male. Not even a whiff of it being fake.” Babette straightened. “If Alfred isn’t human. Isn’t old. Isn’t anything at all, then who is he?”

  “One of the dragon mages. And he’s got Elspeth!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  During the entire conversation over breakfast and the invitation to get in the car, Elspeth knew Alfred was the bad guy. She didn’t know why, or how, but the moment she’d noticed him in the kitchen it hit her.

  He’s the tool of my death.

  The perennial double agent. He’d fooled her good. Bamboozled the girl who could see the future. But the good news was, she was finally on to his game. The bad news was, according to her vision, this was where it possibly ended.

  At least she’d gotten to enjoy one stupendous day with Luc. It was more wonderful than she could have imagined. She wouldn’t be greedy and hope that fate would propel her past this moment.

  Why can’t I be greedy? She’d waited most of her life to finally meet her mate. Had spent one glorious night in his arms. It wasn’t enough.

  I want more.

  She only had herself to blame. How did she not see Alfred’s perfidy?

  Because I look for the good, not the bad.

  No wonder Mother insisted she needed a keeper. A keeper might have thought to bring an umbrella.

  Plop.

  A raindrop struck her nose. She blinked open her eyes and discovered herself tied to a stake outdoors.

  Not too bad on its own. She’d been tied more than once in her life. At least this time, she wasn’t gagged, tied to a cinder block, and dropped in a lake. Good thing she could hold her breath.

  More worrisome was the pile of sticks at her feet that appeared to extend around the stake and a few feet from it. A touch disturbing.

  Alfred stood in front of her, alongside Maedoc, who rubbed his chin. “Awake already. Stronger than you look. I do so love healthy dragon stock. Hopefully, there’s some of that spirit left when we’re done with you.”

  It just lacked ominous music to make his words worse. As it was, Elspeth didn’t like the sound of them. Her vision had never revealed if her demise would hurt or not. She just knew death hovered nearby.

  “You do realize, once my dragon brethren realize what you’re doing, they’ll be quite upset. With good reason.” Elspeth was a ray of sunshine in their lives. She forced a smile to her lips.

  Maedoc smirked. “We already have allies from within the dragon Septs who are fully on board. It would seem their new Golden king has left them unimpressed. He moves too slowly, and he lacks higher aspirations.”

  “We have the numbers to rule the Septs then the world!” Alfred declared.

  “Do you know how villainous it sounds to say you want to rule the world?” Elspeth exercised her eye rolls.

  “It’s the natural order. We used to be the rulers of this land,” Maedoc declared.

  “Not in recent times,” she argued. No pills made for a grumpy Elspeth.

  “Dragonkind hasn’t ruled the world since they banished their strongest members.”

  “You mean the dragon mages?” Elspeth didn’t need a vision of the future to see how this was going. “I won’t deny the mages got a raw deal. The guilty ones should have been killed.” Mercy only went so far. The lives that could have been saved had their ancestors shown a little more balls would have seen Voadicia and the others dead before they’d had a chance to perpetrate their evil.

  “But they didn’t kill the guilty. They decided to lay the blame on all magic users. Those Goldens and their superiority complex. This was their plan. To send us away so they could rule unfettered. Instead, the humans almost decimated them. They should have kept us around. Now, they’ll all pay.”

  “But we had nothing to do with your sentence. You’re killing innocents.”

  “We were innocent before being imprisoned,” Maedoc snapped. “Some of us mere children when we entered the Hell dimension. Punished for something we were never aware of.”

  “You could have lived in that world peacefully.”

  “We did that for a while. It got boring, and then we found some books. Magic books.” His irises flared red. “And the rest, as they say, is history.” Maedoc spread his hands, a beatific smile on his lips.

  “The humans will kill you.”

  “Have you seen it in a vision?” Alfred fixed her with a stare.

  Uh-oh, did they know about her power? “I used logic. The humans outnumber us and aren’t about to allow anyone to rule them.” Especially not criminals from another dimension.

  “All we need are the right steps. The perfect acts to make a play for domination.” Alfred gestured to his brother. “Maedoc has a plan to achieve that.”

  “In ord
er to guide our future, we need to see our future,” Maedoc elaborated.

  The idea that they might take her power brought a smile. “You want my visions, go ahead and take them. Tell me what to do. They’ve been nothing but trouble.”

  Eogan, who looked less and less like Alfred the more he rubbed some lotion into his skin, frowned. “You’re lying. No one wants to give power willingly.”

  “It’s been a nightmare. Literally. Do you know how many futures there are? It’s exhausting.” Elspeth would welcome a quiet mind where she could only guess at the future like everyone else.

  “To know is to be all-powerful.”

  “Except I don’t know everything. For example, why pretend to be Luc’s butler?”

  “Because it amused. We never expected the demon to follow us through the portal, but when we realized he had, we saw an opportunity.”

  “For what?”

  “To lay the blame at his feet. To use him again as our servant.” Eogan shrugged. “He is alone. We planned to make him into the perfect scapegoat.”

  She frowned. “You were using him.”

  “We use everything we come in contact with. It’s a specialty of ours.” With his youth returned, Eogan’s smile only enhanced his handsome appearance.

  “If you’re done bragging about our greatness, let’s get started,” Maedoc announced. He pulled a pinch of powder from a pouch, tossed it into the air, and blew, chanting a weird string of syllables.

  The motes were pulled toward Elspeth and began churning around her. It caused a small breeze to appear, tugging at the loose curls of her hair.

  She blew at them to keep them from her face, a little more worried than she wanted to admit by the weird tornado forming with her at its core.

  The wind, whistling around, muffled the chanting. The twining speed of it blurred her vision of Maedoc and Eogan, the latter now a young man in his prime.

  What her cousins and aunts wouldn’t give to get their hands on that cream he used. Pity things appeared dire, and she couldn’t see one spit of the future past this moment.

  That didn’t mean she was giving up.