Demon Rogue (The Half-Demon Rogue Book 1)

by Erikson, D. N.

  Not the gun.

  Then I remembered that the thing had survived more scrapes than even me, and I decided it was all okay.

  “Inonda PD,” a voice called down the long hallway, from the bottom of the stairs. “We got a call about a disturbance.”

  “I bet you fellas did,” I said beneath my breath. My eyes returned to the blood pool in the center of the room. Crimson spatter trailed away, from where Isabella had staggered off. No time to clean it up.

  The second the cops reached the hall, they’d have all the probable cause necessary to barge in here. That just couldn’t happen.

  This was gonna cost me, but there wasn’t a whole lotta options. The papers rustled as I drew upon the energy in the room and surrounding area. Black magic isn’t like other forms of spellcasting. It devours energy like a gas-guzzling SUV.

  And not just any energy.

  Life force.

  More particularly, living souls.

  That’s what the stoners downstairs would get for being good citizens. As the energy crackled in the air, I reconsidered the source. The cops were as good a sacrifice as any. Detective Scott had a bug up my ass ever since I moved here.

  I tried to sense whether he was on the stairs.

  Lucky me.

  With an explosive flick of the wrist, I snatched a piece of his soul.

  And now came the shitty part. The real reason I didn’t use my own magic—the sacrifice. Burrowing deep within myself, toward the human half, I crumbled off a piece of my own soul and added it to the swirl of energy. There were other sacrifices I could’ve offered, but nothing on such short notice. It’d been two hundred years—the encounter with Albin, actually—since I’d seen fit to use my demonic skillset.

  But whenever Isabella showed up, things tended to get out of hand.

  I rubbed my hands together and wondered if it would still work. Spying the first officer’s hat popping up on the stairwell, I shook the cobwebs from my mind and closed my eyes.

  And then I whispered the words.

  “Defendus steelus.”

  Now was the critical moment. The spell had a lot of leeway—I had to shape its implementation with the imagery in my mind. Given the distractions and long layoff, the execution was slightly imperfect. With my limited focus, I pictured a steel door, six inches thick, springing from the top of the stairwell, blocking the police’s path.

  For good measure, I decided to add a few warning lights and a wailing alarm, as if the thing had been triggered by a security system.

  The ground shook as I opened my eyes. A thick steel door hurtled down from the ceiling and closed off the stairs. Through the material, I heard the muted cries of surprise from the officers. Inside my chest, I felt the little twinge of something missing.

  A gasping breath left my lungs, and I had to lean against the torn up door frame.

  “Police,” I heard, and this time I identified the voice as Scott’s, “Open this door at once.”

  Not likely.

  I pushed my elbows against the crumbling plaster. A sticky layer of sweat dotted my face. The new door certainly wasn’t making the Texas heat more palatable. My eyes flashed toward the office window. Jumping wouldn’t be such a bad call. Wash my hands of the whole matter and split town.

  I’d done it enough times in my life to get used to the notion.

  But I’d made a deal with Diana. It might not have been a good one, but the terms had been set. And, sooner or later, Marrack, Isabella and the rest of this mess would catch up with me. Whether the supernatural slice-and-dicer was related to my old enemies was up in the air.

  What wasn’t was whether I was gonna stay.

  With a heavy heart, I turned away from the window and set about making a plan. One thing that you can’t say about demonic black magic is that it’s weak. If regular spells were like a couple aspirin, this stuff was like a horse tranquilizer. Powerful as hell, but a ton of nasty side effects that dampened the fun.

  Suffice to say, though, the Inonda PD was gonna be hung up for a while.

  First things first.

  I trotted down the hall, careful to avoid the blood droplets, and rapped my knuckles against the steel.

  “Sorry fellas,” I said, in my fake friendly voice, “Alarm system is on the fritz.” The frequent and frantic beeps backed up my bogus claim.

  “That you, Aeon?” Detective Scott yelled on the other side. “You open this damn door right now, you bastard.”

  “I’m on the phone with the security company now,” I said. “You tripped the system when you came in.”

  “I swear, Aeon, whatever stunt you’re pulling—”

  I socked the door hard, pretending I was indignant about the accusations. “I’m just as upset as you. I paid good money for this door. And you’re accusing me of criminal activity?”

  That’s it, Kal. Lay it on thick.

  There was a sullen silence. Then Detective Scott said, “Fine. But get it fixed. We’re waiting until it’s open.”

  I would expect nothing less.

  My fingertips brushing against the yellowed walls, I trotted down the hallway leading to my office. Thankfully I was the only second-floor tenant. The other spaces were vacant. No need for any witnesses to this disaster.

  After a few deep breaths of stale air, I remembered where I had a bottle of eye drops. I got ‘em out of the bottom drawer, emptied the liquid in the corner, then managed to fill the container with Isabella’s blood. It glistened slightly in the morning light.

  This would come in handy. I screwed the cap on tight and pocketed my prize. If I cleaned everything up well, there would be no search and I’d be able to get off scot-free.

  No pun intended, or anything.

  I’m not the cleaning sort, although I had a bottle of old bleach from the last tenant in the corner. That, combined with plenty of old case files, was enough to get everything looking good.

  I popped the window open and did a final check in the hall.

  The splintered door was a problem, but it wasn’t enough to barge inside.

  Actually, better than all that, I could just drag the desk over and prop it up in the frame. That would hide the jumble of wreckage in the back of the office that I couldn’t really hide. Scott didn’t have a warrant, and the word of a few college kids well past cloud nine wasn’t going to hold much water.

  Hopefully he would ignore the burn marks, from where Isabella had vaporized my desk lamp.

  Satisfied everything was in order, I pulled the creaky desk into the ruined frame. With a heaving effort, I managed to get it vertical. Looked a little funny, but it blocked the view of my office well enough. The cops came up the hall, there would be a whole bunch of questions about bleach, anyway.

  I raised my hand toward the ceiling and made a gesture like I was rapidly tossing a ball underhand. The steel door groaned upwards, shaking the building. True to his word, Scott was waiting at the top of the stairs.

  I glanced over my shoulder, and my heart almost stopped. I’d forgotten the damn paw Isabella had dropped. There were enough places that the desk didn’t cover for a few strands of hair to be visible.

  The intermittent beeps and alarms stopped as the door retracted.

  “Some security system you got, Aeon,” Scott said, stepping up into the hallway. His beady eyes scanned the narrow surroundings for any sign of wrongdoing. Finding none, he directed his gaze at me. “You been cleaning up the evidence?”

  “May I see your warrant, Officer Scott?”

  His bearded chin contorted into a grimace. I could see his short, stocky body quivering with annoyance. Thinking about jumping me, maybe, beating the answers out of me. Taking part of his soul probably wasn’t the smartest idea. Guy was a nasty little son of a bitch to begin with.

  “It’s Detective,” he said, the word tinged with menace, “And
you need to step aside.”

  I knew that. It’d been that way for three years, ever since he’d gotten up my ass the first night I moved here. But I called him Officer to piss him off, and it worked every time.

  “Of course,” I said. “The question stands, Detective.”

  “We don’t need a warrant,” he said. “We got a call saying shots were fired. And what’s with the house cleaning, Aeon?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, heart pounding that he was talking about the bleach.

  “Strange place for a desk,” Scott said, trying to move past me.

  “Trying out this feng shui thing,” I said. “If that’s a crime, lock me up now.”

  I held out my wrists, daring him to slap on the cuffs.

  His beady eyes narrowed. “It is a crime obstructing an investigation.”

  “And yet, it was your incompetent force who tripped my security system on the way in,” I said, gesturing toward the ceiling. “How can I trust that your men didn’t write the address down wrong?”

  “I swear, Aeon, if you—”

  “Detective Scott,” I said, holding up my hands. “You hear no disturbance. I am unharmed. I have been the victim of no crime. There is simply nothing here.”

  His lip vibrated, and for a second I thought he might tear my damn throat out. He looked around me, trying to catch a glimpse of what was inside my office.

  I did my best to block him without making it seem like I cared.

  “What’s in the office, Aeon?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Your dog here, Aeon?” He smirked. “That stupid mutt that pisses on the ground when I show up?”

  “Yeah, he’s there,” I said, with an easy smile. “You wanna say hi?”

  Scott shook his head, like the idea was dumber than my dog. Instead, he said, “I’m gonna get you for what you did three years ago, Aeon.” He jabbed a thick, sausage finger into the badge hanging from the waistband of his department store suit pants. “I swear on this badge. For Roderick.”

  I held his gaze and nodded. “I expect nothing less, Detective.”

  Scott gave me a look of disgust, like the very sight of me made him want to vomit. Saying nothing, he cleared his throat and his men began to descend the stairs. When I heard the side door on the first floor slam, I let out a sigh of relief.

  The office phone rang again, but I couldn’t deal with Charon’s bullshit today. Instead, a few minutes after the cops drove away, I went outside and made a call of my own.

  “Ja,” a sleepy voice said. “Gunnar.”

  “Gunnar,” I said. “I need your help. Got a creature that needs ID.”

  “Alive or dead?”

  “This part’s not alive.”

  There was a growl on the other end of the line. You didn’t wake up a vampire in the morning. But I knew Gunnar’s curiosity was piqued, because he said, “Bring it to Lux tonight.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice.

  I needed some damn answers.

  5

  I spent the day cleaning up the office and trying to make sense of the hurricane that had come through my now-missing door. Someone was stealing supernatural creatures’ essence. Why? To get powerful, sure, but imbibing too much of that stuff had consequences.

  It sounded like something Marrack would do, but I wasn’t ready to admit he was back. Then again, Isabella showing up like she did suggested that, all things considered, he was lurking in the shadows somewhere. The two had been, let’s say, close after Isabella and I split.

  And Marrack’s banishment was directly tied to what I did to Isabella. Although I can only claim direct responsibility for the latter. Not for lack of trying.

  But if Isabella was doing his bidding, why waltz in here all but admitting her involvement? Did she know I had Woden’s Spear?

  Yes, yes, that Woden. With the raven.

  No—not even Charon knew I’d found that. No one did. That’s why the damn thing was cloaked with the most powerful magic I knew. Cost me more than a couple pieces of myself to pull that trick.

  Hell, even the guy who had hired me for that salvage centuries ago had disappeared before I could deliver the goods. I’d had this piece of godly weaponry in my possession ever since. The legends about it were rife. It was said to be the only surviving artifact of Ragnarok, the last fragment of the gods left behind.

  In a godless world, that was powerful indeed.

  Don’t ask me how I found the damn thing. That was a story for another day, when I had less on my plate.

  I considered bringing the spear along to Gunnar’s, but even though he was my best friend, that would be like dangling a rib-eye in front of a shark. Even the most noble magical creature would have a difficult time resisting taking this thing for a spin. A vamp?

  He might’ve been my best friend, but not happening.

  So I left it behind the filing cabinet, packed my .45, the 4 x 6 Diana had left behind, Isabella’s blood, and the piece of the unfortunate furry bastard, and headed out at sundown. With my leather jacket billowing around my waist in the gentle breeze, I threw everything in the back of my ’72 Cutlass Supreme. Then I got in the front and turned the key.

  For once, it didn’t give me any shit. I patted the steering wheel, promised the old broad an oil change one of these days, and steered her into town.

  Inonda’s a small enough place, but it’s spread out. Which means you need to drive to get anywhere in a proper amount of time. The rest of the Four Points—the magical hubs of the Southwest District—each had their own flair. Down here, we had the open plains feel. For outlaws and drifters, a place where people could just disappear.

  It wasn’t quite the end of the earth, but it was the closest place that still had high-speed internet.

  Suited me fine, with all the people I’d pissed off in this lifetime.

  I cut the old boat’s growling engine in Lux’s parking lot. The sign’s soft blue glow spread out over the asphalt, creating an atmosphere of cool. I gotta say, I could live ten thousand more years, and I wouldn’t be half as suave as Gunnar.

  A couple entered the club, and I heard the strains of searing blues guitar come through the open door. Nice enough night for some tunes. But I didn’t have time to listen to a cover of “Cold Shot.” There was work to be done.

  I coaxed the back door open and took my stuff off the back seat. Stuffed the .45 in my waistband and the other pieces in my jacket. It dawned on me that I should’ve taken the Remkah Talisman with me, but whatever. I’d armed my new magical security system. Now that the steel demon door was manifest into the world, it didn’t cost me anything more of my soul to use it.

  I walked across the dim lot.

  “Hey,” a patron whistled at me. “You tryin’ to buy?”

  Lux wasn’t usually this type of joint. It had kind of an unwritten rep as a place where a different element gathered. With magical creatures still in the shadows, that rep was probably that a lot of people played pretend dressed in leather while drinking expensive scotch.

  But it wasn’t the kind of club you got jacked out of your mind on coke for. I said, “Nah, man, I’m good.”

  I took a couple steps forward before the guy continued his pitch. “This shit’s new, brah. You look like you could use some.”

  My palms heated up, and I stopped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing, bro, just be cool.”

  “We’re all cool here. Bro.”

  “Just try a little,” the man said. From the corner of my eye, I saw him shuffle across the lot. His dirty hair gleamed in the dim light. He was missing at least two teeth. His dirty fingers held out a vial. “Best high of your life. Strength like you’re a goddamn vamper. Like that cable TV show.”

  “I don’t watch TV.”

  “
Free sample, bro.”

  I couldn’t see what was inside. The sun had already set, and Gunnar was waiting. “I don’t need it.”

  “You never know what you need until you find it,” he said. Something about his insistence—the awe behind the pitch—was enough to get me to take a second look. I grabbed the vial from his fingers. “Hey man, that’s a hundred bucks.”

  “What happened to the free sample?”

  “Eh, c’mon man, I was just sayin’ stuff.”

  I guess this was a business expense. I took out some of Diana’s cash and forked it over. “Get the fuck outta here.”

  Didn’t have to tell him twice. Like a rat, he scurried off and melded into the darkness.

  I held my new purchase in the palm of my hand and examined it.

  Guy wasn’t joking about this being different.

  This was blood. But not just any blood—blood tinged with essence. I shivered, even though it was still hotter than a demon’s dick.

  I’d seen something like this before.

  And it hadn’t ended well.

  I pocketed the vial and headed into Lux.

  Time to get some answers.

  *

  The smoky strains of an old blues classic hit my ears when I walked in the door. Anti-smoking laws be damned, too—cigars, cigarettes, the whole place was lit up like a juke joint from the ‘50s. Couples swayed on the dance floor, some dressed in their evening best, others in more alternative wear. The place was ensconced in a subtle, soft blue light that gave everything a slightly dreamy quality.

  On stage, a five-piece band in crisp tailored suits sang about how their baby had left. The harmony was good, the playing in the pocket, but I wasn’t in the grooving mood.

  I stepped toward the bar and nodded at the barback. Then I whistled low, a few octaves below the human register.

  A shrill voice answered. “It’s not closing time. You know how dangerous it is to risk exposure, Kalos.”

  “You got a big problem, Trevor,” I said, to the shapeshifting owl hiding below the bar. When I had gotten here, Trevor had been the main barkeep. What was it they called themselves now? Mixologists? But he’d shifted into an owl one night on a bet, and a warlock patron had trapped him permanently in avian form.