Or get a front row seat to my death. It scared the shit out of me that a witch as powerful as Delphine could only cut through Isabella’s mind control spell for ten minutes. That put my former lover in an arena of magical creatures that the world had not seen in a long time.
I was old, and I’d never seen power approaching that.
I wondered if Marrack was jealous. He’d been surprisingly quiet. I would have expected some sort of jab or unwanted visit by this point. But the Demon King apparently had no time for little old Kalos.
Which suited me just fine, actually.
In the passenger seat, Ruby gave me a sideways glance, but offered no commentary. She’d been deep in contemplative reflection since we’d left for Remington Landry’s ranch. There was no need to disturb her; I’d studied Zen and meditation long enough to understand that poking the waters wouldn’t be helpful.
A still mind was possibly the only advantage we possessed over the hateful duo. Although I had my doubts about Ruby. She’d seemed off ever since learning about Galleron’s death.
I turned on the radio, scanning through the stations until I hit something with halfway decent reception.
“My God, man, did you see this on social media,” the radio host said, breathless in his excitement. “A sinkhole about three miles wide in the Texas desert. They picked this thing up on satellite, that’s how big it is.”
“Three miles?”
“And you know what the weirdest thing is, Jack?”
Jack dutifully answered, “What, your mother was down there?”
Cue laugh track. The host said, “A clay vase. Old as hell, like it’d been down there since we were hunting mammoths.”
“I don’t think they had mammoths in Texas.”
“Probably had something bigger. C’mon man, it’s Texas.”
More canned laughter from the producer. The conversation was brutal, but the actual subject matter was fascinating. The sidekick said, “So what are we thinking? Aliens?”
“Could be,” the host replied. “But plenty of weird stuff’s been going down on Earth right under our noses. Caller One, you’re on the—”
Ruby’s palm slammed against the console, forever relegating Caller One’s opinion to the depths of the unheard.
“So it’s true.”
“What’s true?”
“The rumors.”
“You’re gonna have to spell this out for me,” I said.
She brushed her brown hair out of her face and turned, slate-gray eyes glowing almost solid red. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to focus on the road. This must’ve been how other people felt when I was channeling some serious demonic tendencies.
“When a realm collapses, the energy of the matter within, as well as all its inhabitants, seeks to escape to another world.”
“Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like what you say next?”
“I sensed a strangeness to the Remkah Talisman when I held it out in the desert.” Ruby nodded along to the rhythm of the road. Everything was becoming clear.
Too bad none of the revelations were in our favor.
This one would be no different, because she said, “The objects in the Journal contain the concentrated energy and souls of shattered worlds.”
“You’re telling me that the fifth object was just revealed?” It checked the boxes. Supernatural creatures were out in the open, subject to mortal scrutiny. And a vase filled with the concentrated energy of the Weald would certainly qualify as an artifact of untold power. “Well, maybe Isabella and Marrack don’t listen to the news.”
“Midnight might be too late, Kalos.” Ruby fell silent, her expression stone-like and unreadable.
But I refused to believe that my destiny was to destroy a realm and grant my enemies what they desired most.
Even if, at this point, I had no credible evidence in support of the contrary.
52
Wind streamed through the open window as I made the turn onto Remington Landry’s ranch. Given our time constraints, it was a shame he didn’t live closer to civilization. Then again, finding a parcel like this near a city was a modern impossibility. His spread was a sprawling chunk of grass that stretched on for miles. In the middle stood a colonial-style house with an Old South vibe. A little anachronistic for Texas, but if you had the money, you might as well get what you want.
And one thing was very clear: that Landry had money. Perhaps because his favorite client had been wealthy, too. You wouldn’t have known it from looking at Charon’s hunched shoulders and sallow skin, but the former Ferryman had been loaded.
The size of the inheritance had almost been worth the tax grief and other annoyances that came with being executor. I guess the small fact that all the paperwork might now save my life tipped the scale toward “reasonable use of time.”
I still wasn’t sure. If reading a bestseller was boring, estate law was boring enough to go full-on Socrates and chug hemlock.
“Did you give him a call?” Ruby asked, following me as I headed toward the verandah.
“No answer.”
“You seem surprisingly okay with that.”
“I’m sure he’ll love a surprise face-to-face chat.”
“And what if he doesn’t want to talk?”
“He knows who I am.” This was true enough; our phone bill alone had seemingly cut Charon’s estate by half. But, truth be told, I’d never met Remington in the flesh. And this seemed like the type of place one might buy if they were judiciously avoiding drop-in guests at all costs.
A security camera at the edge of the porch swiveled to track my movements as I walked up to the screen door. Before I could open it and knock, the intercom blared. “I must warn you that you aren’t the first thugs to shake me down.”
I raised my eyebrow toward Ruby. She didn’t give me a told you so glance, even if I deserved it.
“We’re just here to talk,” I said. When I didn’t get a reply, I added, “It’s Kalos.”
“You are the demon?” The suspicion didn’t dissipate from his voice. “How do I know you are who you say?”
“Didn’t Charon leave you a picture or something?”
“I know what you look like,” Remington said. “But so do others.”
“So I’m an imposter.”
“Magic makes all things possible.”
“Who would I be?”
“Burglars. Thieves. Con artists.” He cleared his throat with great gusto. “We’ve had break-ins.”
“We?”
“Royal we.”
Right. Remington was that kind of guy. “How can I prove who I am?”
“A display of power should suffice.”
I turned my head slowly toward the rotating camera. “That might be difficult.”
“And why is that?”
“Long story,” I said. “Look, let’s just—”
“You have ten seconds to exit the porch.”
“What?”
“Clearly you are phonies.”
“Who uses the word phony?” Ruby asked under her breath.
“I do, Miss, and I assure you that my threats are not idle.”
“We don’t have time for this.” She ripped the shotgun off her back and pumped two shots into the door. A sudden, almost imperceptible burst of light swallowed the blasts. Some sort of protective ward.
The door remained undamaged.
I gave Ruby a look.
“Does her display of power count?” I asked.
“Three seconds.”
“I’m not moving,” I said. “Believe me or not.”
The seconds ticked onward, and I waited to be fried by some sort of magical defense system. But instead, the door audibly unlocked. Apparently thieves didn’t stick around to be zapped.
Remington said, “Leave your
weapons in the receptacle by the door if you wish to enter.”
“I’m not going to use them on—”
“Many men have uttered the same words, demon. If I believed them all, I would neither be a good lawyer nor a live one.”
He had a point. Convincing him that I wasn’t a demon would take too long, and there was probably no amount of words that could convince him to let an armed Ruby inside. There was a circular flap cut into the brickwork next to the door, similar to a mail slot but large enough to fit bigger items through. Apparently this whole disarmament thing occurred often enough to necessitate a specialized repository.
Then again, we were in Texas.
I dropped the .45 through the hole, but heard no clink. Strange, but the design of the weapon’s storage crate wasn’t really my main concern right now. I needed to focus on our goal.
Get Charon’s haul and get out.
Ruby hung back, making no move to part with the shotgun.
“Come on, let’s go.”
“I’m not heading in there unarmed,” she said.
“It’s not a military base.”
“I’m not leaving the gun.” She crossed her arms and planted her feet. I understood. It had some link to Galleron. The last one she had in this world.
“Then the woman cannot enter,” Remington said.
“What’s stopping us? The door’s already open.”
“Perhaps you should not make threats about what you do not understand, demon.”
Old Remington could have been all hat and no cattle, but he was also right: I had no way of proving otherwise without X-ray vision. For all I knew, threat-prevention wards similar to the one on the front door littered the property, just begging for an excuse to be dusted off.
I glanced at Ruby. “You okay with waiting?”
“I’ve survived this long without you.”
“Don’t shoot anything,” I said. “Remington?”
“I prefer Mr. Landry.”
Yes, I recalled as such from our conversations. Unfortunately, I wasn’t much for formalities, particularly given the other pressing issues.
“Today’s not your lucky day, then,” I said. “I’m coming in alone.”
I entered the large house, stepping into an expansive foyer that led to a wide marble staircase. The mansion might’ve only been two stories, but it still carried an expansive sense of scale.
Remington’s voice—courtesy of the intercoms placed strategically every dozen feet—directed me back to a room on the first floor, past the kitchen. I knocked on the door, wondering why it was at least twice the width and height of a normal one.
Remington’s gruff voice said, “Come in.”
I turned the polished brass knob, entering a sizable study. The room wouldn’t have felt out of place hosting an Illuminati meeting. The cherry finishes were buffed to a gleam, and the desk looked like it outweighed me by a factor of three-to-one. On its own, the carpet probably ran more than my old apartment’s rent.
None of this was particularly interesting, though. I’d met rich people before.
I was more interested in Remington Landry.
His front hooves stomped on the carpet, nostrils flaring as he sized me up.
“You are rather small for a demon.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” I wasn’t sure when standing above six feet had become “small,” but supernatural critters had funny ways of looking at the world. And there was no doubt that Remington Landry had essence coursing through his veins.
It’d been awhile since I’d last seen a centaur. Kind of a hard gig to hold down, since you’re half-horse. Makes hiding in plain sight a real pain in the ass. Them and elves both had it rough on the whole blending in thing. The private spread in the middle of nowhere now made a lot more sense.
The other reason few of them stuck around was simple: they were notorious pricks. Not in the warlock or troll sense, in that they were at risk of turning violent. More just…pedantic and wildly, wildly paranoid. Which, I would be too, if people had basically hunted my species to extinction in ancient times.
Remington’s tail swished as he said, “Well, sit and let’s talk.”
“I’m in a little bit of a hurry.”
“Is there a problem with the will? If my assistant screwed up the copies again…”
“I think I could’ve fixed that with a phone call. If you’d bothered to answer.”
“Yes, Charon told me about you, demon. Always with the snappy one-liners.”
“I try.”
“And fail quite often, I suspect.” Remington paced behind the desk. I noticed there was no chair. “What may I assist you with today?”
“I’ve come to collect the inherited items.”
Remington’s tan, golden skin covering his human half went ashen. The moment passed quickly, however, and he tried to mask his dismay by holding his neck higher. His broad chest, clad in an expensive suit jacket, puffed up.
“I see.”
With suspicion, I came closer and put my fists on the desk. Eye-to-eye, now, I said, “And what does that mean, exactly?”
“It means I understand that you have arrived to collect Charon’s items. Personal effects.”
“They’re a little bit more than that.”
“Trinkets. No real value, demon.” His rapid breathing suggested otherwise.
“Don’t make me hop the desk, asshole.” My patience had never been the stuff of legend, and it was quickly wearing thin.
“Coming around the edge would be quicker.” Remington was talking a good game, but I would blow his four-legged ass right through his half-empty bookcase if push came to shove.
Or at least I would act like I could. If I didn’t tell him, he wouldn’t know that my demon pass had been revoked. Then again, he could have already read my aura and made that determination without me knowing.
Weren’t bluffs fun?
“Tell me where the collection is,” I said, dropping my voice an octave or two.
“In all estate matters, there are various challenges and—”
“Cut the shit.” Remington stumbled slightly, his hoof chipping one of the immaculate cabinets.
“They were stolen.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I am not an armored car service or a bank vault.” Remington once more tried to cover up his nervousness with false bluster. “This situation was unfortunate, but not unexpected.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” I said. “This place has more security than a bank.”
“Nonetheless, they are gone. I cannot help you.”
I chewed the information over in a sort of stunned silence. Now I understood why he’d suddenly ducked my calls. I’d never been a fan of lawyers—or centaurs, for that matter—and I couldn’t say this little revelation was creating a more favorable opinion of either. But I could also tell, from the pained expression on his face, that he was telling the truth.
His incompetence almost pained him more than it pained me. But not quite. Because I needed all the essence I could get. And now I was down a not insignificant amount.
But worse, I was out time that I didn’t have.
Berating him for terrible customer service wouldn’t help the situation, though. So after multiple deep breaths, I said, “I don’t suppose you have a description of the thief.”
To my surprise, Remington confidently replied, “Absolutely.” He reached into his desk and pulled out a stack of glossy photographs. From the grain and the angle, I could tell they were taken straight from security cam feeds.
I scanned the room as he leafed through them, curious if he was recording our current conversation. Most likely.
Centaurs. Paranoia.
“Here.” A slightly dog-eared photograph dangled in front of my face. With an annoyed sigh, I snatched it
from his fingers. It showed a black van on the outskirts of the property, idling near a ramshackle shed.
The timestamp indicated that the break-in had occurred about four months earlier.
“Unbelievable.”
“Suing me for negligence will be a tall order, demon.”
“Who said anything about a legal process?” I wore a fake grin as I handed him back the photograph. “Unless the van grew hands and robbed you, this doesn’t tell me shit.”
“Yes, well.” Remington filed the stack of printouts away in the desk again. “It is who the vehicle belongs to that will be of interest.”
“I’m waiting.”
His eyes shifted around the room, like he was afraid someone was listening. “The Crimson Conclave.”
Remington didn’t have to offer any more information. Isabella had beaten me to the punch. It made sense—Charon had been affiliated with Conclave for years. They’d have plenty of personal information on him. A reclusive lawyer’s address wouldn’t be a stretch.
I wondered if this essence haul had catapulted her to goddess status. Not likely, but I couldn’t know for sure without an accurate inventory.
Which wasn’t going to happen.
I racked my brain for alternatives. Where could I find essence on short notice? Javier’s wouldn’t be enough to perform the intervention spell, let alone pay Delphine’s fee. Given the times, she’d probably take a loan, but it wasn’t like she had the raw essence on hand necessary to break a goddess’s curse.
Briefly, I wondered if we could go back to Agonia, and maybe haul a few dragons through a realm rift. I quickly shoved that idea from my mind as a nonstarter. But it was a good indication of how desperate I was getting.
“Goddamnit.” I pounded my fists on the solid desk, blowing off some steam. I half-expected Remington to chide me, but the centaur paid no heed. His bearded face was twisted into a worried frown as he furtively stared at his computer monitor.
“Don’t tell me Ruby’s acting up again,” I said.
In a choked whisper, Remington only managed to say, “Vampires. In the light.”
Moon Burn (The Half-Demon Rogue Trilogy Book 3) Page 22