Moon Burn (The Half-Demon Rogue Trilogy Book 3)

by D. N. Erikson

  “But you escaped.”

  The car bounced along in thumping silence. Ruby’s next words, ten miles later, were, “Get off at this exit.”

  “You sure you know where you’re going?”

  “Kalos.”

  I dutifully made the turn, forking off onto a similarly dust-swept, blue-skied road. The convertible bounced along the pitted asphalt.

  “Who’s the head of the Council, again?”

  “You know.”

  Yes, I knew that Octavian Ziems led the Sol Council. But I’d taken to calling him Assface or, when things got heated, Dirty Backstabbing Cocksucker. After all, it seemed only fair. After the Haelstrom debacle over the summer, the Sol Council had agreed to leave me alone.

  Forever.

  Which had been a lie—and a tremendously short-lived one, at that. Instead, they’d hired a valley nymph mercenary to steal the Journal of Annihilation. Classy.

  “And they didn’t say what they wanted?”

  “Aside from your help dispatching the vampires, no.”

  “They really didn’t say?”

  “I would suspect you have other secrets of interest to the Council.” Ruby turned from the window to stare me dead in the eye. “But I don’t know everything.”

  “How refreshing.” The faint scent of something burning floated through the car’s vents. I ducked over the steering wheel to peer through the windshield. Smoke hovered on the horizon. Under normal circumstances I might not think twice. But these were times verging on the end of days.

  “I assume that’s the HQ,” I said with a small measure of self-satisfaction.

  Ruby had a strangely troubled expression on her face. “No, no.”

  “Worried you won’t get paid?”

  “Idiots,” she said under her breath, the veins in her forearms popping out. “Goddamn fools.”

  “Tell me something I didn’t know.”

  “I only took the contract to gain access.” Ruby’s brown hair swept over her face as shook her head. “I brought you here to steal the Journal back.”

  Well, that was news. Who’d have thought a bounty hunter cared so much about supernatural power struggles?

  “Then we’ll hit them while they’re down,” I said. “This is good.”

  “I’m afraid it’s the exact opposite.” And then my heart almost stopped when she said, “Because it looks like Marrack beat us to it.”

  5

  Not that it would’ve been anyone else. The Crimson Conclave and Sol Council had been mortal enemies for millennia, only maintaining an uneasy ceasefire out of begrudging necessity. But with the Senate breathing down the supernatural’s back, no one needed to hide in the shadows any more.

  Marrack had launched a decisive first strike in what would be their final war. One that looked a lot like a death blow.

  I tossed the Remkah Talisman to Ruby as I closed the car door. She caught the heavy emerald pendent.

  “You really shouldn’t keep this around your neck.”

  I raised my eyebrow. Someone had clearly been learning about the Journal of Annihilation. I shouldn’t have been surprised—who runs a print shop and doesn’t like to read? It meant that, like Argos, she remembered threads of magical arcana from the countless dust-strewn tomes that I ignored.

  Although, if I recalled correctly, she had once been laxer in her studies.

  “I have the Carmine Chain as well.” I tapped my front pocket.

  “Jesus Christ, Kalos.” Leave it to me to shatter her veneer of supernatural cool. My philosophy about these artifacts—two of the five detailed in the Journal—had been simple. They were safer with me than in any bank vault or hidden cache.

  “Just cast a water spell.” I nodded toward the blaze erupting from the center of the desert. It looked like those oil well fires from the news—pillars of flame so high and wide that they looked fake.

  But the heat told me this inferno was quite real.

  “I can’t cast magic.” Ruby rolled her eyes. “No Realmfarer can.”

  “Seriously?” I watched the flames leap higher. Like any good secret lair, the Sol Council’s HQ hadn’t been located above ground. Instead, it’d been a deeply positioned bunker.

  One that afforded them precious little protection in a situation like this. I cast a wary glance to the cloudless sky, searching for drones or missiles. But this fire bore the aura of a spell. Something very dark and angry. Magical immolation at its finest.

  It was amusing to learn that the Sol Council was positioned right in my backyard. The Council and Conclave were national organizations, but one way or another, all roads led back to the Southwest District and its Four Points.

  A very specific point, in fact: Inonda.

  I didn’t want to flatter myself, but it seemed I was at least partially responsible. I had a destiny, after all.

  What that was, even I didn’t know.

  “Kalos, watch out!” Ruby’s shotgun flashed as she ripped it off her back. She didn’t get the opportunity to fire before a blur hit me right in the gut, sending me to the dirt. The cold skin clawed at my face, disappearing when I tried punching back.

  I shivered. Not from the chill, but because of what it was.

  “Vamp,” I said, taking the opportunity to draw my own pistol. I squinted from the bright afternoon light. At the corners of the fiery ruins a group of daystriders emerged. They were clad in black, faces pale. Behind them, high above the smoky blaze, the sun beat down.

  It was an anachronistic sight, one requiring more than a moment to process. Normally a vamp in daytime cooked like a piece of chicken falling onto a grill’s coals. Nasty, quick and well-toasted.

  Daystriders were the stuff of legend. Almost as rare as Realmfarers.

  Unfortunately, reflective moments were at a premium, and standing still was liable to get me killed.

  Ruby pumped the shotgun and aimed down the crosshairs. The hundred-yard distance looked hopeless, but a pure bolt of streamlined lightning surged from the barrel like electricity leaping off a Tesla coil. A vampire at the group’s fringe exploded in a geyser of blood and burnt fabric.

  I blinked twice as Ruby said, “I can’t use magic. That’s why I have this.”

  “Good to know.” I’d failed to recognize that the shotgun had been magically augmented. Heavily. Instead, I’d thought Ruby had cast a spell on the bullets, imbuing them with their storm-like nature.

  Underestimating things can be deadly.

  Misidentifying them can be even deadlier.

  The vampires were in the process of discovering these truths. Realizing their sudden appearance in the daylight hadn’t scared us into immediate surrender, the pack blurred across the desert landscape.

  I aimed the .45 at the spitting dirt, unable to draw a good bead on a target.

  My senses are better than a mortal’s, but I still don’t move anywhere near vamp speed. The bullets smacked into the cracked soil harmlessly. Sensing one of the blurs more than I saw it, I ducked and braced my shoulder. A vamp collided with my hunkered form, flipping into the air.

  I felt the burst of energy from Ruby’s gun explode above me, showering my head in blood and charred entrails.

  I wiped my face and turned toward her. Before I could say thanks, I yelled, “To your right!”

  A vamp raked her arm, drawing blood and knocking her to the ground. Still reeling from the collision seconds prior, I tried to steady the .45. The bloodsucker leapt toward her, fangs unfurled.

  I pulled the trigger, blowing the daystrider away just inches from her neck. With no time to ask if she was okay, I whirled around, ready to unleash hell on the rest of our attackers.

  Their leader stood alone before the billowing flames and let loose a threatening howl.

  A promise that they’d return.

  But, for now, they would nurse t
heir wounds.

  The remaining vampires sped off into the distance as I pumped futile shots at the horizon. After three empty clicks, Ruby said, “I think you’re out.”

  Cursing, I threw the .45 across the smoky plains and shook vampire bits out of my short black hair. Adrenaline and a lust for battle pulsed through my body. The lead vampire’s challenge stuck like a thorn in my ears, taunting me.

  Easy, Kalos.

  I channeled some Zen, closing my eyes to focus on nothingness. The dusty Texas landscape around me disappeared, replaced only by my breath and slowing heartbeat. With a deep sigh, I opened my eyes to find Ruby Callaway watching with a curious look on her blood-streaked face.

  Clearly she’d missed that little detail during the cold-read—or however it was a Realmfarer gleaned a man’s secrets. Then again, there was no magic in the world that could read a mind.

  It was there that my true complexities remained hidden. Most of them unpleasant.

  Staring past her, I said, “Seems your bounty came hunting you.”

  “Daystriders.” She spat in the soil, probably to get the taste of blood out of her mouth. “I only took the bounty to get access to the damn Journal.”

  “Why do you care, anyway?”

  “Because I rather enjoy being alive.” Ruby brushed chalky dirt from her brown hair. “Don’t you?”

  Survival. A basic motivation, but a powerful one. Hard to argue that walking in the light beat taking a dirt nap.

  I scratched my nose and gazed at the desert inferno. The dusty plains bore no record of the day-walking vamps. But we’d both seen them, and experience told us that this was no mere disturbance or warning shot—this was war.

  And it might’ve been a short one.

  End of days, indeed. A bounty hunter and a half-demon with a loose moral code were the only creatures who cared enough to stop the world from annihilation. Deep in thought, I shuffled over and picked up the empty .45.

  After holstering the gun, I headed toward the flames.

  “The hell are you doing?” Ruby called after me. “It’ll burn you alive.”

  I stopped. She was right. “Give me the Talisman back. Since you’re useless with it.”

  It flew through the air—with a little extra velocity, I might add—and I caught it. Slipping it over my neck, I took the Carmine Chain from my pocket. The gold links shimmered in the fiery light. Clutching both and channeling the essence within, I whispered, “Protectus gravitas.”

  A thin cushion of air swirled around me as I strode into the heart of the inferno.

  Because what was a suicide mission when the world was already ending?

  6

  The combined power of the two artifacts—along with the considerable essence flowing through my veins—proved enough to part the fiery sea. Although I didn’t want to get too cocky. That was when mistakes tended to happen.

  The protective spell pushed the swirling flames and smoke aside enough to reveal a blown-out entrance at the bottom of a relatively shallow hole. I hopped down and entered the charred, twisted frame. I wasn’t sure why I needed to search the ruins.

  Could be that I wanted to make sure Nadia wasn’t down here. Or maybe Ruby had motivated me, and I wanted my damn Journal back.

  I took the blackened concrete stairs down into the depths of the Earth. Pushing through a mangled steel door at the bottom, I found myself in a vast underground chamber. It resembled a warehouse, lit by small fires and punctuated by creaking rafters.

  The fire had burned through the subterranean office already, rushing top-side for more oxygen and fuel. As such, I could explore without getting immolated. Not that I stopped the spell, or anything. The protective air bubble still shielded me from the patches of flames—even serving to extinguish some of the more minor fires.

  The irony of the Sol Council’s HQ being buried deep beneath the Earth wasn’t lost upon me. You’d expect demons and vamps to be plotting world domination from the shadows—not the Fae.

  This didn’t look like a place for creatures of light essence. And yet, the scent in the air indicated that more than a few had burnt to a crisp. It gave me a glimmer of hollow satisfaction to know the Sol Council had taken one on the chin.

  A pained groan brought my attention to the massive bunker’s far end. Weaving through ruined desks and equipment, I made my way to the source. In what had once been a corner office with glass walls—but was now a few steel beams sticking out of torched concrete—lay a half-shifted panther trying to free himself from beneath a desk.

  “Octavian.” I stepped over a twisted girder, my boots crinkling through the broken glass. The wind cushion pushed through the panther’s shifted back half, making his black fur stand on end. Back here, the flames were almost nonexistent.

  Focusing my essence, I dialed the protectus gravitas spell down to a simmer. I still needed to avoid death by smoke inhalation. Immortality doesn’t mean invincibility.

  The wounded shifter coughed and struggled as I came closer. A throaty growl formed in his human throat. “Don’t.”

  I cocked my head and knelt, sensing a strange aura. A spell signature hung in the air. Octavian hadn’t failed to shift due to injury. Someone had cursed him in his half-shifted state, effectively condemning him to die in the cruelest way possible.

  The daystriders hadn’t cast these spells. Fire and curses were a little bit beyond their abilities. Which meant they’d had a little help.

  “Who did this?” I said, trying to infuse some sympathy into my voice.

  “Don’t act like you care, Mr. Aeon.”

  “I can give you a quick death if you give me a name.”

  Octavian’s eyes blazed with wild fear. Although death was now inevitable, the desire to live still burned deeply. You would think that immortal and long-living creatures would learn to accept life’s finite nature.

  Instead, immortality tended to make one greedy and unappreciative—totally unprepared for the end. I’d seen it many times. Despite the fact that the supernatural world was brutal and violent, creatures of essence possessed a willful naïveté regarding death.

  Even the ones running the show weren’t immune.

  “Stay away,” he said in his growl-tinged voice. “Don’t you fucking do anything.” His lean, bare arms pulsed and tensed.

  “Have it your way.” I rose from the ground and looked around. The massive underground cavern groaned and crackled. “Did Nadia make it back?”

  A long, painful silence ensued, during which I imagined all types of horrible scenarios. But finally Octavian said, “The girl did not return after we sent her to collect you.”

  I let out a sigh of relief, even though that made the most sense. The caravan of SUVs wasn’t parked outside. There’d been no evidence of her on the road. She’d probably fled temporarily to nurse her embarrassment and hopefully reassess her life trajectory.

  “What’d you promise her?”

  “The King’s Statue…” Octavian’s eyes began to grow fuzzy. An extended, lucid conversation wasn’t in the cards.

  “You promised her that?”

  “You fool…no.” With great effort, he snapped back to reality, pain writ plainly on his face. “They took the Journal. As well as the Statue and…the Sabre of Immolation.”

  Fear twisted in my gut. The Council had really found the other two objects. Somehow I’d been wishing that Ruby had been mistaken—that the Sol Council hadn’t been hard at work since stealing the Journal from me four months prior.

  And now, just like that, these artifacts were gone. The Journal’s prophecy echoed in my mind: the fifth object would be revealed once those of magical blood walked freely amongst mortals.

  Well, we were getting damn close to that. And while I still had two of the five artifacts in the Carmine Chain and Remkah Talisman, the thief responsible for the Sol Council’s destruction had
two as well, plus the Journal.

  And who knows what else the Sol Council had locked away.

  I shook my head. It wasn’t just any thief—it was the Conclave. Isabella and Marrack were pulling the strings.

  “I had the Journal covered before you morons stepped in.”

  “You never could have kept it, Kalos.” His lips turned upward, attempting to smile. “Its power is too great to be left with someone like you.”

  A burst of heat raced over my skin. “Just look at this pile of shit you’ve stirred up.”

  “We’re good at what we do,” Octavian said with a weak feline grin. “Or were.”

  “Who did this?”

  “Marrack’s moon-burned vampires.” He coughed, soot-stained blood spewing down his pale chest. “Please.”

  “You’re not getting any damn favors for telling me things I already know.”

  “The dog’s blood is in the desk.” Octavian looked at me with pleading eyes. “Your offer…a quick death.”

  Under other circumstances, Octavian was a prick who I’d sooner let suffer. But helpless on the ground, slowly asphyxiating, he seemed harmless. Worthy of pity, even.

  “Wait.” The daystrider problem might be worse than I thought. “You said moon-burned, right?”

  “Yes.” His eyes grew wide as I came closer. I thought it was out of fear, but I realized why a second too late. “Please, no…”

  A timber smashed against my back, battering me to the ashen floor. Which is when I heard a familiar, grit-tinged sultry voice.

  “You should never have made that potion, Kalos.”

  But really, Isabella Kronos, what other option did I have?

  7

  Undeterred by the structural integrity of the Sol Council’s crumbling underground lair—or, rather, the lack thereof—Isabella instructed her men to lash me to one of the few intact chairs. They even cleared out the center of the ashen ruins just for me.

  Octavian didn’t receive the same hospitality. They snapped his neck—a mercy—and then dragged him away. I was hoping Isabella hadn’t heard him mention Argos’s blood, but luck wasn’t on my side. After knocking me down, she’d stepped over me and grabbed the vial from the remnants of the desk.