The salesladies from the Santa Fe shop stood facing the desk—and their new boss. I stopped next to the shop girls. Lysande’s gaze flicked my way a moment. Wrapping up, she said, “I see no need to breathe down your necks. Keep the books in order, show a profit, and one of you might well be promoted to run that operation on a full-time basis, with a commensurate pay raise. And I want you to assist Mr. Deathwalker in any reasonable demand he makes, until I say otherwise. One last thing, send my hounds back to me. I’ve missed them.”
The salesladies bowed formally, backed away several steps, and turned with great dignity, heading to the main office doors. I watched as they crossed the threshold and vanished, returning to the Santa Fe shop. I turned to Lysande. “Those are your mutts in the shop?”
“Yes. Daddy didn’t like the fact that they obeyed only me. He could be rather—what’s the human term?—ah, anal, that’s it.” She gave my bloody arm an amused glance, smiling slightly. “I see you’ve met my little sister. Is she still alive?”
“Oh, sure. I don’t kill kids, as a general rule, but don’t tell her that.”
Lysande smiled. “Wouldn’t think of it. Now, to business. I understand that you have taken a kingdom. Have you set a date for the official coronation? Who shows up and the quality of their gifts will give you a good idea of those who are open to an alliance. You’ll want the usual trappings of power. You can’t get any respect from the fey gentry if you don’t look like a king. I would be honored to design something appropriate for you.”
“I haven’t really considered the matter, but if you’re talking about a crown and scepter, gold would be more appropriate for someone who’s half dragon.”
“Hmmm, I have a cousin who married into a goldsmith clan. She’d be grateful for the commission, and would probably pay me a finder’s fee for bringing her the work.” Lysande used a thumb to point over her shoulder. “She made the collars on the statues.”
“Well, I suppose I could use some formal silverware for my reception hall.”
“I can do that. Who do I talk to? You have a personal assistant, right?”
“A combat butler, actually.” I took out a red-satin business card. Gold lettering spelled: Caine Deathwalker, Risk Management Specialist. The back of the card was plain white. With a pen off the ink stand, I wrote a number on the card. I replaced the pen and left the card on the desk. “Call this number and talk to Osamu. He’ll bring in Izumi. Between the two of them, they can work out the details, and keep me informed.
“Izumi?”
“That’s the name she used while hiding out in the human world, before reconciling with her mom, the queen of the Winter Court. Izumi will probably want some jeweled silver tiaras from you while we’re at it—on my tab of course. One will be for a werewolf make sure it can’t hurt her.”
“Uh, that is a unique challenge,” Lysande frowned slightly, no doubt wondering if she could pull it off.
When people dream small, their conquests are small. I said, “Just think, when everyone sees your silver work on the head of a werewolf, your fame as a silversmith will know no limits. So, give me a discount for the advertisement.”
“If I get new contracts from the occasion, certainly. That won’t be a problem, and the rebate will give me a reason to come visit what’s in your pants.”
The more I thought about it, a formal coronation was a good idea. Everyone loves a party. The demons that defended our Clan House against the Blue Star Priestess could use a reward for their service. Besides, it would piss in the cornflakes of the fey that objected to an outlander ruling one of their kingdoms. Secondly, the event would invite an enemy attack that I could turn to my advantage. The Storm Court had already sent assassins after me. If I could get that repeated in a very public setting, no one would complain if I took out that kingdom, expanding my power. All fey understand and respect the right of retaliation. And it would make the rest cautious in their aggression.
“That’s a rather evil smile on your face,” Lysande said.
Withdrawing from my thoughts, I looked at her. “Just planning some fun.”
Claws scrambled on the floor. The arriving hounds from the jewelry shop lost no time in running to their mistress and leaping against her in joyful greeting. Their pony-sized bodies should have overwhelmed her, seated as she was, but she didn’t seem to feel the weight. Her hands rubbed their black coats, skimming across the dark green ripples on their sides. Their heads nudged her, their ember eyes blazing in enthusiasm. “Max, Millie, I’m happy to see you too, but settle down.”
“These are the Mountain Lands of Fairy, right?”
“Of course, where did you think you were?”
“I didn’t really know. My first clue was the silver mine and that big cavern through the windows, and the fact that you’re drawing strength from the surrounding earth. Mountain fey are known for that.”
“I told you that you wouldn’t break me, though you’re welcome to try any time.” She shot me a lusty glance. “I am totally in love with your, uh, scepter of power.”
“What about the rest of me?”
She shrugged, suppressing a teasing smile. “Not so much. Maybe you’ll grow on me.”
“It’s too late for acting coy. Like your legs, all your secrets have been spread out before me.” I stood, and the tiny broom fairies sweeping the desk flitted away for cover. “Well, I have to get my ass back to Santa Fe.”
“Take care of it for me,” Lysande said.
“Of course, he’s my better half.”
I walked away from the massive desk, through the open office doors, and found myself in the back room of the Santa Fe jewelry store. There was no sign of the gunmen I’d killed. Someone had cleaned up here, too. I continued on to the front of the store. The two fey ladies behind the counter turned toward me as I passed. They bowed deeply, their social positions among the fey a lot better now due to my visit this day. I placed a business card on the counter and wrote the name of the hotel I was staying at on the reverse. I told them, “I’ll want word on all preternatural auctions occurring locally as soon as you know something, and I’ll be attending as well.”
They bowed again. The one in the periwinkle gown said, “It will be done.”
I crossed the store and let myself out. Evening had fallen.
The sky was awash in deepening shades of blue. A few streaks of cloud caught dying red sunlight on their bellies. I made my way to my Mustang and let myself in. Satisfying the security scanners, I was allowed to start the engine. The car rumbled as I pulled away from the curb and entered traffic. Stalled by a red light, I called home. Osamu picked up. “Yes, Caine-sama, how can I be of service?”
“Is Izumi still visiting at the Clan House?”
“That is correct.”
“How would the two of you like to join me in Santa Fe for fun and games, and maybe a little shopping?”
I heard Izumi’s voice, “Gimme that! Hello, Caine? Is that you?”
“Yes, love. Care to join me out here? I have a party I need you to plan, and there’s a fey jeweler here I’ve commissioned to make us some things for my mountain keep back in Fairy. You do like jeweled tiaras, right?”
She squealed in my ear. I drew the phone away for a moment in self-defense. “I take it that’s a yes?”
“Where are you straying?” she asked. “I’ll portal over.”
“I’m in the Mustang, so that won’t work. Here’s the address.” I rattled it off.
“Sure, anything else?”
“Yeah, watch out for vampires. I’m working for a vampire lord, so he’s going to be all in my business. You know how they are. Actually, why don’t you see if Gloria wants to come along? Having a pure-blood vamp on my side might be a good thing before all this is over.”
“I’ll ask.”
“Fine. Gotta go. Later.” I put the phone away as the traffic light went green. Time to catch up with my troops and figure out our next move. I called the number Madison had given me when we’d left th
e motel, wanting to know if she’d given me the real one. Girls don’t often do that to me, but you never know. She picked up on the second ring.
“Yeahello? Madison here.”
“It’s your lord and master.”
“In your dreams.”
“Yeah, there, too. Give me an update,” I said.
“The old house where those kids were found was bought up a few years ago. Several buildings were added to it, one of them a performance hall. The place is a school of music now. The old mansion is a co-ed dormitory.”
“Has Grace done her ghost whisperer thing there yet?”
“She and Onyx crossed over, as she calls it. They came back saying there weren’t any ghosts around. That’s suspicious, right, given this place’s history?”
“Grace is the expert. What does she say?”
There was a long silence.
“Madison, is Grace there?”
“Not exactly.”
A longer silence.
“Madison, where’s Grace and Onyx?”
“They went into the concert hall. Grace said she caught a whiff of demon. She’s checking it out.”
It was time to ask a very important question. “Stock from extra-dimensional demons that migrated here a long time ago, or the fallen angel type?”
“Number two, I think. But don’t hold me to that.”
“I’m on my way, meanwhile, go after her and try to keep her alive.”
“But Onyx is with her. How dangerous could things get?”
“I’ll tell Cassie you said that at Grace’s closed-casket funeral.”
“Oh, crap!”
I hung up to better concentrate on driving. Fuck me blind! This could get very bad. I slammed down on the accelerator pedal wove around traffic. I cut across the occasional sidewalk when people were too slow getting out of my way. All I could think of was that if Grace died, I’d need to take out Cassie before she got the news. I’d need that little advantage against a kitsune warrior that could well have a thousand years of experience on me. I’d never seen the dark side of Grace’s mother, but I’d heard a few chilling stories.
Before I was halfway through an intersection, a yellow light turned red. Horns sounded. A traffic camera flashed, and I knew someone was going to try and mail me a traffic ticket. Unfortunately for them, the special chemical coating applied to my license plate kept it from being recorded—though the human eye saw it just fine.
The wonders of modern technology…
THIRTEEN
“If wishes were corpses, we’d all be victims of someone’s envy”
—Caine Deathwalker
I pulled up in front of a free-standing concrete slab that had an embedded brass sign saying: Branden Conservatory. Beyond lay an old Victorian-style mansion, a red and white brick expanse with a tower and a wraparound wooden porch. Next to the Victorian, the school’s modern, three-story building looked out of place, all steel and blue-tinted windows. There was a separate hall for performances with a large, mostly empty parking lot adjoining it. The flowerbeds with their sprinklers allowed blooms to grow that the desert would otherwise have killed. The buildings enjoyed quiet, sitting on the edge of town, the closest neighbor being a housing development under construction where work was done for the day.
Parked ahead of me was an older model black Nova. The driver’s door opened. Madison bailed, slamming the door shut behind her. She stomped over to my Mustang and got in next to me. She pointed. “Over there.”
I drove onto the property and followed a side road over to where Grace was supposed to be, a great, arch-roofed building with three sets of double doors, colonial pillars in front, and a wide flight of stairs. The parking lot we entered was empty, a concrete expanse with freshly painted lines. I parked and stepped out. Madison did the same. I locked up with the remote, and led Madison toward the front of the hall.
I wasn’t sure what I could do if Grace was still crossed over to the ghost realm adjoining ours. I couldn’t cross that barrier on my own, nor could Madison, but if Grace saw us, she could pull us across the dimensional divide.
I ran up the stairs to the middle set of double doors. I tugged on the handle and the door opened. I didn’t know if that was normal or not. Inside was a foyer carpeted in deep red. The walls were Brazilian rosewood. High track-lighting blazed down. There were a few couches separated by long-legged tables, and far left and right, broad staircases winding upward. The foyer had a number of open doors leading deeper into an auditorium that sloped downward to a half-circle stage. I went into the main part of the building, following an aisle with red upholstered seats and more of the blood-hued carpeting. High in the cavernous space, crystal chandeliers were switched on, but not turned full on.
I stopped to scan the place, looking for motion.
Madison yelled, her voice moving past me, echoing, naturally amplified by the design of the place. “Grace! Onyx!”
The curtains at the back of the stage rippled. A phantom wind sprang from nothing, hitting gale force in moments. The curtains whipped in great billows, tearing under the attack. Mixed into the wind-scream was the howl of spirit voices, a sliding, keyless keen that cut like a sword. I staggered back a step and went down on one knee. Summoning my guns would have done no good. I still had nothing solid to fight.
Madison knelt with me, yelling into my ear to be heard. “What do we do?”
Hell if I know.
And then Grace was there, popping into view mid-stage. A shredded black mist roiled around her. She hung in the air.
With a savage growl, I leaped ahead, feeling a surge of strength from my inner dragon. I landed, went to my knees, and skidded under Grace. Gravity won out against whatever force was suspending her. She plunged toward the hardwood stage, but it was all right—I’d gotten there in time. Grace hit my chest as my arms came up to scoop her. She lay stunned, unmoving against me. I laid her down.
Above, in the tearing claws of the wind, the black vapor churned in on itself, spooling, thickening, and hardening in defiance. A black man-shape formed, dropping on the other side of Grace. Onyx. He leaned over her, his hand feeling for a pulse at her throat. His face emerged from darkness to make him human, in appearance anyway.
Struggling up against the press of the wind, Madison waded up to us. At the edge of sight, I saw the glint of throwing knives in one of her hands. Confronted with the inexplicable and dangerous, it was human nature to get armed fast.
She asked, “Is she okay?”
“Yeah,” Onyx said. “Just give her a minute.”
Somewhere, a chandelier snapped free of its chains and crashed into the seating. Before more damage could follow, the wind dissolved, suddenly remembering it had someplace to go. A normal silence set in, but it seemed eerie.
Grace’s eyes flickered open. She stared into a great distance as if she hadn’t fully returned from the ghost realm. A deep, shuddering breath filled her lungs. Her gaze sharpened. Her lips trembled as she spoke. “O-ow-ouch! What hit me? A truck?”
“Dissonance,” Onyx said. “Something like spectral sound that’s been tortured into madness.”
Grace groaned and closed her eyes. “So weak. Damn bastard ate a chunk off my life force. Gotta … recharge.”
“’Damn bastard?’” Madison asked.
“Ghosts,” Onyx said, “very hungry ones.”
“I thought you’d said there were no ghosts on this property,” Madison said.
“Nowhere else, just here apparently. Somehow, they don’t have free range.” Grace’s eyes opened again. She reached toward me. “Help me up.”
I bent forward and offered my right arm. Grace latched on and I pulled her up. She leaned into me a moment, one hand pressing into her right ribs. Finding her balance, she stepped back, her motion stopped by Onyx’s close presence. Madison came around me and went up to Grace, peering into her eyes. Madison still had the throwing knife in one hand. She used her free hand, holding up two fingers. “How many fingers do you see?”
“Smart ass. I don’t think you have a concussion. Ribs hurt?”
“Yeah. Can we get outta here?”
“Wait a second,” I said. “Did you learn anything about the serial killer I’m after?”
“Yeah, some of his ghostly victims are here in the hall, what’s left of them.”
Onyx came around her so he could see her face. “What’s that mean?”
Grace wrapped her arms around herself, as if feeling the cold of the grave. These aren’t regular ghosts anymore. They’ve been distorted, contaminated in some way. Their energy is all wrong.”
At last, this was getting somewhere. I’d assumed I was after a normal serial killer. If the killer were making use of the ghosts he created, he might well be more than human. Maybe not human at all. This also seemed to indicate he was tied to this property in some way. I thought about what Grace had just said. “How is the energy wrong?”
She shrugged. “Ghosts have a kind of color coding to them, usually purple or green. Demons are hazed with a cold, black smudge that dances like fire.”
She meant the fallen angel type. None of the demons in my clan had shadow fire, though one or two could cloak themselves in darkness, going into stealth mode. ”So, what kind of energy did these ghosts have?”
“Muddy red,” she said. “It gave the air an odd stink like rotten blood.”
“Ewwww!” Madison said. “How do you know what rotten blood smells like? Stood over corpses much?”
Shadows stirred in Grace’s eyes, dimming them. “Yeah, I have. Like my Mom, I sometimes get called on by the Texas branch of the PRT.”
Just like Cassie. Now, why wasn’t that in my background report? Someone’s doing shoddy work. Someone’s going to hear about this when I get back to L.A. Hear about it with a two-by-four across the head. Well, if nothing else, it means Grace is a little more capable than I thought.
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