She shrugged as I opened the door for her. “Dad’s pure trouble. Thinks he’s entitled to make decisions for everybody in the known and unknown universe. Mom hid my birth from him for years, trying to keep me safe and give me a choice of futures. Dad’s a real tyrant. He needs firm handling, Fenn, too.”
Fenn, that name’s familiar. Ah, yes, I remember… “He’s the feral human at that think-tank you once went to. Raised by wolves, or something.” We crossed the parking lot toward the second line of cars. Twilight lay over the area, thinned by the streetlights coming on. Several of the restaurants that were accessed by this parking lot were doing good business. Two caught my eye: one a steakhouse, the other a Chinese place. I personally preferred sushi.
Coming up on my vehicle, I smiled fondly at the new Shelby GT500 Mustang. In place of racing stripes, the custom paintjob was a deep, glossy black with gold jags of lightning along the sides.
Grace said, “Fenn’s broody, but not wild. His mom raised him human, and raised him properly. Most of his issues come from the fact that his dad is the Trickster.”
I stopped cold, feeling a dark, murderous aura reaching out to engulf me. Fuck! Has saying the Trickster’s name drawn his ill will? There are a lot of other avatars I prefer running into tonight.
Grace went on a few steps and turned back. “Something wrong?”
I looked past her at a woman stepping out from behind a red van. It was Cassie, and she didn’t look happy seeing me anywhere near her daughter. Ah, that’s who I sensed. I smiled, and started forward. “Cassie! How nice to see you again.” But especially your tits.
Fire spilled from her hand but didn’t hit the blacktop. It solidified—mostly—into a blade of dancing flames.
Oh, crap!
“What are you doing with my daughter?” Cassie’s tone was deceptively mild with only a hint of intrigue. The gold glow in her eyes said I better have a helluva good answer, or this was going to get fun really quick.
Well, I do need to fill Grace in. I might as well do that with Cassie listening.
“Lately, I’ve been haunted by a little girl’s ghost. She wants her mother and won’t cross over until I reunite them. I thought Grace might want to help—in exchange for a healthy contribution to her college fund.” It was true, as far as it went. Cassie didn’t need to know that I had a second client and a blank check in my pocket. I try not to burden people with things they
don’t really need to know, just thoughtful that way.
Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t think to run this by me first?”
I shrugged. “Why take a chance you’d say no? And isn’t it her decision anyway?”
Grace crossed her arms over her—regrettably—flat chest and stared at her mother. “Yeah, isn’t it?”
Cassie met the stare. “Grace, taking on a mission isn’t about having fun and goofing off from school. Even simple jobs can go bad fast, becoming more than dangerous. And you’re taking responsibility for a partner. Do you know what it means to be a shield for another person when things go to hell?”
Grace’s voice climbed to lofty, sulky, heights. “I’m not without experience. You name it, I’ve fought it. Well, no werewolves yet, but one of these days, the way my luck runs.”
Without tension, or any betraying signal, Cassie lunged across the blacktop, her unnatural sword of foxfire rippling orange and gold as the point came straight at my heart.
I called my demon sword back from my armory in Malibu, letting the hilt fill my palm, the shock of its hunger screaming through my mind: Feed me! I swung the blade from the side, hanging it before me, but I needn’t have bothered. Grace leaped in front of my blade. I actually had to rein it in so the stupid thing didn’t plunge itself into her exposed back. Black shadow grew out of Grace’s right hand and formed a sword as well, wreathed with foxfire. I supposed her swords fire came from her kitsune blood. The obsidian shadow at its core however told me quite a lot about her father: either dark fey, or someone who’d studied shadow magic—like me.
Grace’s sword and Cassie’s were locked in a test of strength. After a moment, Cassie stepped back with a smile. Her sword fluttered down to nothing, vanishing. “Well done. I’d expect nothing less of my daughter.”
Grace didn’t dismiss her sword so quickly. Her voice sounded suspicious, “You mean I can go?”
“You’re taking Tukka?” Cassie asked.
“Yeah, of course.”
“It’s fine with me if you want to help out this ghost child, but I want you to take along a chaperone. Tukka can get easily distracted.”
Grace sputtered, “B-but, why—? Don’t you trust me?”
Cassie glared at me—for some reason—then her gaze went back to Grace. “This creature, Caine Deathwalker, has an atrocious reputation as a man-whore.”
“Man-whore?” I widened my eyes in mock-indignation, pretending to blink back tears. I sent my voice into a shrill, annoying climb. “I resent that remark. I thought we were friends, Cassie. That tears it! I may never forgive you.” That last line would have been far more convincing if I’d suppressed the snicker that slipped out.
Cassie scowled at me, adding, “Oh, shutup, will you?”
My sword spoke into my mind: C’mon, aren’t we going to kill that bitch? You know you want to—she’s hot as hell. You can fuck her before the body cools. You know you want to.
This was weird. My sword was trying to bribe me so I’d let it eat Cassie’s soul.
Maybe later, I said. When Grace isn’t around to see. I need her functional assistance.
My sword sighed. Sonnuvabitch! This just ain’t right.
Grace let her shadow-fire sword break apart, leaving her hand empty. She rounded on me like she suspected I was really wanting to dead-fuck her mom. Grace blinked her anime-big eyes at me, shadows stirring in their cores. “Your last name is Deathwalker?”
I furrowed my brow and stuck my manly chin out a little more. “Yeah. I never knew my biological father, or his real name, so I made one up that I thought rather descriptive. Something wrong with that?”
Sadness bloomed in her gaze. “No, it’s fine, really. Don’t change it.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I gritted.
Grace nodded emphatically. “’Cause there’s no need. It’s a fine name.”
Okay, I made up my mind; first unlucky bastard crossing my
path tonight dies—slow.
My sword brightened up, a flare of pleasure dancing along my nerves. Really? That’s fine then. I can do slow. Just sip at a soul, make it last. I know I can!
I knew better. Yeah, that’s going to happen. I flipped my wrist and willed my sword away.
Aaaagh! Not againnnnnn… Its frustrated voice faded from my head as it went.
Grace turned back to her mom. “I get to pick the tag-along.”
“Who?” Cassie asked.
“Unless it’s a hot chick,” I said, “I’m not paying their way.”
“Madison,” Grace said.
Cassie nodded and smiled, happy with the choice. “Madison. Perfect. She’s a very responsible young woman. You guys get some dinner, and I’ll go pick her up.” Cassie sashayed back to the red van. I kept my eyes on her ass until she climbed in. The engine revved to life and the vehicle pulled away with a squeal of tires.
As Grace turned to me, I asked, “What’s a Madison?”
“A friend from school. She’s my age, and ‘hot blonde’ doesn’t begin to do her justice.”
“Hmmmm.” My day was looking up. Or was it? “Wait a minute. She goes to your school? That means she’s a—”
Grace smiled. “Slayer in training. She wields a mean battle axe.”
I smiled back. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a vampire, then. I like my head where it is.” I looked over the restaurant choices. “Let’s hit the stake-house, in honor of your friend.”
Missing my pun, Grace said, “We’ll need a doggy bag for Tukka when we’re done.”
�
�What you buy for him is your business. There’s no way I’m going to keep that monster in food. I want to make a profit from this job.”
Grace pouted.
I gave her a cold, hard stare. “That may work on Fenn or Shaun, but I’m immune.”
“Do you happen to have some magic that will keep a fu dog out of your dreams so he doesn’t eat them inside out?”
“He’d better not mess with me, or I’ll be responsible for his sudden demise.”
Grace turned solemn, holding in a smile that twitched the corners of her lips. “Yes, Mr. Deathwalker. I’ll see that he knows.”
I motioned to the car. “Get in. I’ll drive us across the parking lot.”
“You know, Mr. Deathwalker, there’s a hint of red glowing in one eye, and yellow in the other when you get mad.”
We settled in the car and buckled up, slamming the doors shut. I looked Grace in the eyes. “Oh, I’m not mad. You’ll know when it happens by all the bodies on the ground.”
Playfully, she punched me in the shoulder. “Yeah, right.”
I turned on the headlights and started the car moving. Grace thought I was joking. That’s fine. She’ll learn soon enough. I have to go easy on her for now, but once we hit Santa Fe—there will be enough blood spilled to drown a herd of fu dogs. I’m so looking forward to it.
A minute later, we parked near Ol’ Tex’s Steak Emporium. The sign on the window had an old cow-poke riding a wild-eyed bull. Having lassoed its horns, he hung on for dear life. It was the kind of place that would have wagon wheel chandeliers and walls decorated with wanted posters and branding irons. We bailed from the car. I locked up with a remote control, and Grace took my arm so I could escort her to the front doors.
We crossed to the sidewalk, about to go in, when I felt eyes on my back. The small hairs at the nape of my neck bristled—a sure sign of danger. I used the glass of the door as I opened it to see what was behind me without betraying obvious interest. There, my car! The black paint was lifting itself off the body in a formless wave. But there was still paint on the vehicle. The reared darkness gathered itself in and took on human form, that of an adolescent young man.
Grace went inside, never noticing my distraction. The living shadow on my hood turned his head to follow her movements. Apparently, she was his concern, not me. He glided down the hood without moving his legs in an actual walk, and made a small hop from bumper to ground. He headed for the sidewalk, coming closer. Before he noticed me noticing him, I went in, letting the door swing shut on possible trouble.
I caught up to Grace. A happy hostess appeared, a bemused expression on her face as she noticed Grace’s antennae. The hostess kept a fixed smile on her face as she ushered us to a table for four. I sat so I could see the front door, an old habit. The waitress left us with menus, going off to get our drink orders. I scanned my menu, deciding on the steak and shrimp skewers, using peripheral vision to track the young man who now appeared to be wearing black denim jeans, a black tee, boots, and a black leather jacket. I had the feeling that the clothes were as much a part of the shadow man as any other part of him.
I warmed my tattoos, flushing the ink with the raw magic. Activating them fully would require an offering of pain. This was just prepping them for instant response if needed, the equivalent of having a hair-trigger on my various powers.
The shadow man could be connected to Grace’s other heritage. Her flame sword possessed such a dark core. I was beginning to think her father was neither a shadow mage nor shadow fey, but something far more terrifying. “Grace, do you have any enemies that are shadow men?”
She looked up from her menu. “That’s not possible.”
The shadow man stopped behind her chair, staring at the back of her head with a great deal of intensity. His monochromatic eyes had a polished hematite look. His pasty skin looked like it had never seen the sun. He was tall, slim, with an I-know-everything smirk on his face that invited death—or at least a sound thrashing. Someone should rip off his arm and put it up his ass.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
She dropped her menu to the tabletop. “Yeah, they’d never hurt me. My father would literally eat them alive, absorbing them into himself. You remember, I told you he was a real tyrant?”
“You mean he’s Lord of the Boogie Men?” How had I not known that?
“Yeah, so why are you asking?”
I pointed past her shoulder. “You may want to turn around.”
FOUR
“Uninvited guests are like dead strippers, easy
to handle provided there’s a vat of acid nearby.”
—Cain Deathwalker
Grace turned in her chair and looked behind her. Her voice spiked with surprise. “Onyx? You’re back.”
The all-in-black youth smiled at her. “Hi, Grace. Mind if I join you?”
She shrugged. “I suppose not.”
“Yes,” I said. “You’re intruding.”
He shifted his smile to me while pulling out a chair. “I’m good at that.”
Grace stared at me with pleading eyes, “It’s all right. He’s a friend, of sorts.”
I lifted an eyebrow. Of sorts?
Grace elaborated. “He has my father’s permission to court me, but not my mom’s.”
“Really?” That’s interesting. I wonder if Cassie will pay me to get rid of the pest. I should wait and see before doing the job for free. Hmmm, I wonder how one goes about killing a shadow anyway? I should google it.
Onyx sat down and plucked the menu out of Grace’s hands. “They got good food here?”
“You eat human food?” Grace asked.
“I intend to learn,” Onyx said. “I intend to win you over and be by your side, in your world or mine. I can be flexible.”
Grace plucked back her menu. “That remains to be seen.”
Onyx grinned. “Especially in bed.”
“You have way too much confidence for your own good,”
Grace said. “Better not let Fenn hear you talking like that.”
The waitress returned, putting my beer in front of me and Grace’s soda by her silverware setting. The waitress turned to Onyx. “Can I get you something to drink as well?”
He pointed at Grace’s glass. “One of those. And whatever else Grace is having.”
“Malibu Chicken and fries,” Grace said.
The waitress nodded, writing down the order.
“Put that on a separate ticket,” I said. “And I’ll have the steak and shrimp.”
Grace shot me a glance that took in my sixty dollar designer sweats. “Separate tickets?” Her eyes said: Oh, c’mon, really?
The waitress hurried off, leaving us to resolve our issues.
I smiled at Grace. “If you want to pick up his check, feel free, but you should be aware that—as a semi-corporeal entity—he can literally eat half this building and everything in their walk-in freezer, and still manage dessert.”
She stared at Onyx. “Oh, I see your point. That could get quite expensive.”
He scowled faintly, at the edge of irritation as well as his seat. “I am a prince, you know? I have no need to freeload. I have resources.” He held a fist out over the table. His hand opened and six glittery stones jostled onto the table top. “See?”
I didn’t need to activate my Dragon Sight tattoo for a magical evaluation. My inner dragon stirred awake, inflamed with greed. His race-memory knowledge of treasure flowed to me. I said, “Black diamonds, one carat, natural color. $1,700 a piece.”
Grace looked at me. “They’re real?”
I nodded. “Most black diamonds are actually white diamonds that have been irradiated to turn midnight-green, a color that only looks black, but really isn’t. These are true black diamonds with color coming from graphite inclusions.”
My hand started forward, itching to feel the textures, to snatch up the stones. I remembered the ruby I’d reflexively eaten months ago. It had come out all right in the end, so to speak, but the event had made
me wary against casually handling jewels. I
pulled my hand back.
My inner dragon growled at me. Hey, I was going to eat that.
I know. Behave.
Onyx swept up the stones, absorbing all but one back into his hand. That one he placed in front of Grace. “Buy me dinner and you can keep that.”
She snatched it off the table with blinding speed. “Sure, just out of the goodness of my heart.”
I felt a change of heart coming on: If shadow men can manufacture black diamonds at will, I’m going to have to develop a tolerance for them. I shot Onyx a steely glance. “So, how big can you make those things anyway?”
“No more than a pound or two while in human form, but if I debase myself first…”
I smiled. “Prince Onyx, allow me to buy you a drink.”
“Sure. And while you’re at it, who exactly are you, and what are you to Grace?”
“Friend of the family?” I said. “Cassie and I have a little history between us.”
Grace picked up her drink and took a sip. “He helped me out that time the ninjas kidnapped Tukka.”
Onyx nodded, a bit of tension bleeding out of his posture. He grinned at Grace. “I’m glad, that’s all. You do have an unfortunate weakness for older men.”
“Do tell?” I said.
“Don’t,” Grace said.
Onyx leaned toward me a little, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial stage whisper, “That Shaun guy, he’s old enough to be her father. She all but drools over him. Sure, the guy knows how to wag a sword, but he’s not a good match for her. Not nearly as good as me.”
Grace glowered. “Even if you say so yourself.”
He looked back at her, his face surprised. “I have to say it. No one else knows just how wonderful I am.”
Give the little shit a bit of power and he thinks he’s god. He should have been born human.
Taking a drink, Grace sputtered, choking, coughing.
Onyx flowed to his feet, at her side in an instant. “Grace, are you all right? Grace?”
She recovered, blinking tears from her eyes. “Damn, don’t say things like that when I’m swallowing.”
Demon Lord 4: White Jade Reaper Page 3