Demon Lord 4: White Jade Reaper

by Morgan Blayde

  “This is getting me back?”

  “Give it a few more secondsssssss.”

  Tukka collapsed into himself, and I was alone. “I wonder how much per pound I can get for that fu dog on the mothman black market. I hear they’re fond of marinated dog.”

  Hands pushed into my guts. Someone was leaning into me. My eyes snapped open as my breath whooshed out. Someone said, “Can’t stay in bed forever, you lazy, shiftless, bum. There’s too many sluts out there depending on your poor taste in women.”

  It took me a moment to realize I was stretched out on a bed, still fully clothed, and that the person abusing me was Grace. She had tears in her eyes, and was shaking me hard enough to loosen my teeth.

  “You can … stop … now!” I said.

  She did, pulling back, standing straight beside the bed. “You scared me.”

  She said it like I was totally to blame so I did what I always do in these circumstances. I lied. “Sorry, about that. It’s all my fault, of course. I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

  “Well, okay.” She gave me a critical, searching gaze. “Are you going to be able to get up and give us a hand?”

  “With what?”

  “Aren’t you awake yet? The concert’s going to start soon. Mom tried to get it closed down, but the new President refused.”

  “New president?”

  “Damn! Get the fuzz out of your brain and come up to speed, will you?”

  “That’s hardly fair,” I said. “I’ve been assaulted by the malevolent energy of an evil flute. I’ve been out of it, probably an hour or two, and—”

  “An hour or two? Try most of the day.”

  I stared at her. “I lost that much time?”

  “Yeah, everyone wanted to have you hauled off to the hospital. I wouldn’t let them. Mom backed me up.”

  I sat up and swung my feet to the floor, looking around at a generic guest room with nothing personal anywhere. “Cassie’s here?”

  “Yeah, with a task force of PRT personnel, federal marshals, and some shaman support from the local reservations. Mom says that there’s enough spirit energy trapped in the music hall to launch it to

  Mars.”

  Something she’d said hit me in the gut. I had a wild suspicion. “Who’s taken over for Dr. Shawcross?”

  “Paul Hastings, that guy you and Madison found in the subterranean cell. Turns out he’s actually Shawcross’ grandson. They found the Grandfather dead—and boy did that stir up the anthill—so until things change, Hasting is running the show.”

  “Brace yourself,” I said, “Hastings is the one who killed our ghost girl back when they were kids. He was in the cage because his grandfather was trying to contain his evil. I’d bet you anything that Hasting was the one who put that knife in his grandfather’s chest. Whatever that weird presence is in the music hall, Hastings is going to set it off tonight to feed on the audience. I think the psycho freak wants to turn himself into a God of Death. A real reaper.”

  “Holy crap!”

  “Uh, say, what happened to the white flute?”

  “Mom took it into custody. She’s got a sorceress with her that has the thing insulated in multiple containment spells. It will probably vanish into some secret, government warehouse and wind up crated next to the Ark of the Covenant, or Thanos’ cosmic cube.”

  I found my boots on the floor and put them on. “Take me to Cassie.”

  “Sure. And you better be nice to Tukka when you see him. He saved your butt.” She went to a door and led the way into a hall. The wood trim and vintage details let me know I was still in the Victorian mansion. We followed a runner on the wooden floor and quickly came to the front door. The place seemed deserted.

  I said, “Tukka is hanging around where people can see him?”

  She opened the door and we went out onto the porch. “He’s with Cassie and the rest of the PRT people. They have an operations center behind the music hall, and guards to keep snoopers out of that area. Plus, I mentioned the sorceress. She does a good aversion spell. People trying to get to the PRT command center—who aren’t wanted there—find themselves lost, wandering in strange directions.”

  “As though they’d fallen victim to a Will-o’-the-Wisp.

  Cool.”

  Evening was approaching. Somehow, I hadn’t fully believed it until I saw it. We went down the stairs and crossed to the path leading toward the music hall. Grace turned her head a little as I came abreast of her. She said, “What happened to you?”

  “Bad trip.”

  “That’s all you’re going to say?”

  “First show wasn’t too bad, but the reruns were murder.”

  “Whatever.”

  We continued on. I noticed a lot of cars but not enough to fill the hall. There were a lot of people around that I wasn’t seeing. Cassie had brought in a lot of people. I still had a bad feeling about what might get loose here. “How long until the show is supposed to start?”

  “An hour,” she said. “A very short hour.”

  We both quickened our steps, reaching the parking lot, following its edge to the corner of the building. We circled to the back without going inside the hall. As we came around the next corner, I felt an icy tingle, a pressure like a liquid wall trying to engulf me. Grace took my hand. That broke the resistance to my entering the back expanse behind the building. She said, “I’m keyed in so the spell recognizes me. They haven’t done that to you yet, but as long as I’m touching you, I can get you through.

  “I knew there was a reason I kept you on the payroll.”

  “Speaking of that, if this escalates to an Armageddon type situation, I’m going to want hazard pay.”

  “Sounds reasonable.”

  We were halfway to a square of four eighteen-wheelers, most of them black, one with red flames painted down the sides. There was a lot of law enforcement types around. I hoped no one recognized me. I wasn’t actually wanted, but I’d been a Person of Interest in so many weird, violent crimes, that the mention of my name in certain quarters often results in quiet curses and prayers for Devine assistance. Some city authorities sent cops to intercept me at airports, suggesting I turn around and catch another plane.

  It’s why I drive most places I go.

  “You’re cool,” Grace said, “but also an ass.”

  I lifted an eyebrow at her sudden pronouncement. “Thanks.”

  “You know what I like about you the best?”

  “Someone likes me? I’m not sure I can take the strain.”

  “That’s what I like. The world is falling apart and you make a joke. You don’t ever seem to doubt that you will kick ass and bludgeon the world into submission. You take everything in stride like you know you’ll live forever.”

  “You don’t believe in living happily ever after?” I asked.

  “I’m going to try, but I’ve seen a lot of darkness these last couple years. I feel like I’m always changing, and not quite into what I thought I’d be.”

  I reached out and stopped her, turning her to face me. I stepped into her, cupping her pale face, keeping her dark red hair from blowing across her eyes in the dry dusty wind. “Grace, we don’t love ourselves because we deserve it. That’s entitlement bullshit. All that we’re entitled to is what we can rip from the teeth of a savage universe. You’re wondering if you’ll still like yourself when you’re all grown up. Well, do what I do and decide never to grow up. Give yourself permission to run as amok as necessary. There are people out there that can clean up your messes, people who never have to stand on the front lines against hell, death, and terror. You save them from that, so I guess you’re entitled after all. And for the record, if I haven’t hit on you, it’s only because Cassie has made it clear that she will pull off my cock and beat me to death with it if I do.”

  A sharp voice cut between us. “That’s certainly true. Now get your demon paws off my daughter.”

  I turned with a smile. “Hi, Cassie.”

  THIRTY-THREE
r />   “It’s not like I attract evil. I carry

  it with me; an eye for an eye…”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  We were inside the flame-sided truck. It was a rolling forensic lab and communication center. There was a holographic table capable of projecting aerial images that could actually be touched due to ultrasound augmentation. Back in my clan house, we used magic for that kind of thing. Humans were going to raise technology to the point that—one of these days—magic would become a meaningless term. I noticed that one wall section had an armory with body armor and military grade ordinance. The toys of death called to me like a lover.

  “Touch those,” Virgil said, and I’ll have you fragged the hard way.”

  “The hard way?” Grace echoed.

  “You’re too innocent for the graphic details,” Virgil said, hiding his eyes behind shades though they weren’t actually needed. “Just take my word; it’s horrific.”

  “Fragmentation grenade up the ass,” I told her, turning to face the big boss.

  Virgil scowled at me.

  I smiled back. “Cat’s out of the bag. Now tell me why the hell you haven’t abused your government authority to close down this show. You can always claim a gas leak or some suspected terrorist act.”

  “That was my original decision.” Virgil sat in a high stool, behind the holo table, his arms crossed, his hands sheathed in black leather gloves—the kind favored by those who frequently punch bad guys. “I got talked out of it by my advisors.” He shot a glance at Cassie who was in a corner consulting with a hot blond in pink and purple camouflage.

  In what jungle of what world is she planning to hide in?

  Grace leaned over when she saw where I was looking. “That’s Janet d’Arc, Virgil’s liaison with the North American Council of Mages. You should date her.”

  I’d heard of NACOM. They were humans first, and magic users second. Not a lot of preternaturals trusted them. One thing I’d give her, she had a body meant for marathon bouts of wild, heart-pounding sex. Honey blond, hair piled high, she was Amazon tall, with a trim figure. Yeah, I’d do her anytime, anyplace. As if sensing my gaze, she turned and glanced my way. So did Cassie. Cassie whispered something to the mage, and she laughed, a throaty, sex sound. Her crimson lipstick played off of a golden tan. A beach bunny. Hanging around her neck was a silver pendant: a quartered circle with a couple feathers dangling at the sides. Make that a shaman beach bunny.

  “I know why I’d want to date her, why do you want me to?” I asked Grace.

  “She pisses the hell out of me,” Grace growled. “Always hanging around Shaun, breathing on him.”

  I gave grace my most sympathetic look. “That’s just terrible. Anything I can do to help.”

  Virgil said, “Out of phase with what we loosely call reality, the theater entity is not easily assessable to non kitsune.”

  “Mom and I can take just so many people across to the ghost realm to chase it down,” Grace said.

  “Whereas,” Virgil pushed his sunglass up the bridge of his nose, “the big scary it can come across and attack whenever it wants. A ticking bomb.”

  “A headset wearing techno-geek off to the side muttered, “A WSD, a weapon of supernatural destruction.”

  I grabbed an empty stool and settled at the table myself. It was glass topped, shimmering with a soft blue, projecting a transparent, three-dimensional plan of the Music hall. I studied it carefully, knowing this would be my next battlefield. I’d let Paul Hastings wait for a time of greater leisure when I could give him the benefit of my full attention.

  “Why are you smiling like that,” Grace asked.

  I wiped the smile away. “Like what?”

  “Kinda scary. Never mind.”

  I shrugged and returned my attention to Virgil. “Normally I don’t care about collateral damage; people die, but aren’t you “protect and serve” types supposed to stop that, not use an audience as bait?”

  “We can’t just walk off and ignore this,” Virgil said. “And people are going to be at risk one way or another; either tonight’s audience, or volunteers we’d bring in to lure the entity out.”

  I nodded. “And it occurred to your boss that if the property owner doesn’t let you shut things down on “mere suspicion something bad might happen”, that you can dump all the responsibility on him, and be the heroes by getting most of the people out of danger when hell comes calling.”

  Virgil sighed. “In today’s political climate, the most important thing is to be seen caring about people, not actually helping them, or accepting responsibility for anything.”

  The liberal way.

  “Besides,” Virgil said, “the Supreme Court has ruled that law enforcement agencies actually don’t have a legal obligation to protect people, just to do their job—all slogans aside.”

  Grace caught my stare, “Mom and I will take you over to the ghost realm, to distract the thing as it starts to manifest. Onyx and Tukka will help us. The magic-users will raise barriers and try to spellbind the entity. Virgil’s men, the marshals, and some SWAT guys on loan from the city will clear the hall as fast as possible, and set up an armed entrenchment.”

  “The Ghost Busters were busy and couldn’t loan you any proton packs,” I asked.

  “No, such luck,” Virgil said. “We do have medical corpsmen and combat surgeons on standby, and helicopters for medevac. Unfortunately, our presence is beginning to draw attention. I had to come up with a cover story.”

  I looked at him expectantly.

  He said, “I brought in a documentary crew to set up cameras. Local media’s been informed that a science fiction movie is being shot here bout the end of the world.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Grace said.

  I was impressed with her poise and calm. She might chaff under her mom’s over-protection, but everyone here seemed to treat her as just another government asset, and a respected one at that. Seeing her in this environment, I was sure she’d found her calling. Not that she couldn’t do a lot better for herself in my demon clan.

  I’ll have to win Cassie over first, though.

  Techno-geek said, “Forty-five minutes to Doomsday.”

  “Has the sun set yet?” I asked.

  “Doing so now,” Virgil said, “Why?”

  “I’m calling someone to the party.” I took out my phone and headed for the truck’s side door.

  “A friend who’ll die for you?” Virgil said.

  “A friend who wants to kill me. I have a lot of those.” I stepped down to the ground and moved away from the forces swarming the area, wanting a little privacy for a phone call. I punched a number I’d recently added to my speed dial function. On the fifth ring, Raspy picked up. “How did you get this number, you cretin?”

  “You’re not still mad at me for shooting you in the back,” I asked.

  “I will get you for that.”

  “Really? I thought you might be willing to forgive me because of the awesome big favor I’m about to do for you.”

  “There is an evil smile on your face, Caine.”

  I paused and checked with my free hand. Yep, he was right. “How did you know?”

  “I could hear it in your voice. What is this awesomeness you have in mind?”

  I am prepared to give you—free of charge or obligation—a brand new super power that will put you one up on Vlad. What do you think of that?”

  I walked out past the eighteen-wheelers to where I could see

  the blue-tinted glass and steel school building. A string of students were leaving it, taking the path that would bend around to the front of the music hall. They looked in our direction, but made no effort to come over. I think they’d been warned not to get underfoot with the “movie” people. Off to my left there were some prop cameras, lighting arrays, and a boom mic crane as well. Tukka lay out in the open, on his side. A gentle snore drifted up from him. What the student’s made of him, I didn’t know.

  “That’s a
long time to be thinking it over,” I said. “What’s the problem?”

  “With you, there is always the catch. I am waiting to hear the catch.”

  “Okay, you got me. Your city is threatened by a monstrous entity. By morning, all that you love may be gone—if I can’t stop it. I just thought I’d make amends in case I don’t survive. That’s all. But if you’re not interested in an attack that lets you hit a target unaware, never seen or sensed by anyone looking for you, well, I guess I’m just wasting my time. So long, Raspy…”

  “Wait, wait. I did not say I was uninterested. You are talking about the method you used to shoot me in my own vault and steal my little angel?”

  “Yeah, but it will have to be fast because I’ll be going into battle soon against something powerful beyond belief.”

  “What is this threat to my city?”

  I gave him my current location, describing the three main buildings, and which one I was in back of. “The sun’s down now,” I said. “Of course, I don’t know if there’s a limit on how far you can fold space.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “Good. Don’t be alarmed by the SWAT, federal marshals, or the PRT personnel hanging around.

  We’ve all joined force to fight this thing.”

  “You have yet to say what this thing is.”

  “Better you don’t know. You might be enticed to fight it too, and I can’t have your second death on my hands when I die a glorious martyr’s death.”

  He roared at me over the phone. “Do not tell me who I can and cannot fight. I am Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin.” His voice vanished off the phone. A lens of distorted air appeared in front of me. Its heart went dark with an elongated, flat shadow. Rasputin stepped out of that shadow, glaring at me, just out of reach—except for someone with his level of vampiric speed. The distortion behind him went away. “You are a most infuriating fellow,” he said.

  “And I actually like you.”