Demon Rogue (The Half-Demon Rogue Book 1)

by Erikson, D. N.

  My heart jumped up about a thousand beats per minute. I ground my teeth together, tasting blood where I had bit down on my tongue. The storm cloud grew stronger, with gusts powerful enough to press us flat against the hardwood.

  Isabella couldn’t hear me, so it was pointless to shout into the ether. But it was evident that, regardless of whether I cooperated or not, Isabella had every intention of snuffing Nadia out.

  Love’s a bitch like that.

  The Remkah Talisman, while powerful, offered more of a defensive type of magic. It could cast a bubble, perhaps, to shield us from the debris. But if Isabella dropped Lux on our heads, we’d be buried underneath a hundred tons of rubble. Magical shield or no, I still needed water.

  Demon magic was the nuclear, last-resort, scorched earth option. Anything with enough power to knife through the storm would probably kill Nadia.

  I should’ve known more than a half dozen spells.

  Put it on the list of resolutions, along with reading.

  The blood was an option. But...no, I couldn’t kill her.

  “The necklace,” I screamed over the maelstrom as a shelf of bottles toppled down. With admirable self-sacrifice, I made sure Nadia was covered. A fifth of cheap scotch pounded against my spine, and I grunted, temporarily stunned.

  Beneath me, she said, “I can’t hear you.”

  I rasped with my remaining breath, right in her ear, “What did the journal say about the necklace?”

  I had known the minute I’d seen it that the thing had powers. But how do you tell a mortal that? I haven’t survived this long just flashing my magical nature to everyone. Even for someone with a pretty face. All those Casanovas have long since met their maker.

  Life’s a pretty cushy gig. I’d like to stick around for as long as possible.

  “You shall tell me where you have hidden Woden’s Spear, pitiful mortals!” Isabella thundered. A hailstorm of bar stools rained down on our position. With deft precision, I rolled over, clutching Nadia in my arms. Like javelins, the splintered chairs staked into the wood where we had been only moments before. “Marrack and I will rule this wretched planet, and you will be our loyal servant for all eternity!”

  “I’ll pass,” I said, pulling the ruby necklace from my pocket.

  Before I could let loose a sigh of relief, an intact stool crashed about two feet from my head. It cracked the custom hardwood Gunnar had imported from some unpronounceable locale.

  The favors I would owe this vampire were going to be astronomical.

  Nadia’s body shook beneath my chest. I had to end this. Fast. She hadn’t gotten the memo that the necklace was crucial to our survival. But in Mach 10 conditions, no one could blame her. Isabella didn’t care about any of that.

  I dangled the amulet in front of her and pointed to it.

  “The journal,” I screamed, my throat going raw. The storm rose to a deafening crescendo around us. Looking up, I saw that the building was beginning to shake back and forth. Either Isabella was having trouble holding it, or she was preparing for the coup de grace.

  “…grav…” Nadia answered, her words devoured by the wind.

  Even so, just that fragment caused the necklace to light up with a soft glow.

  “Louder,” I said, pressing my ear against her lips.

  “Protectus gravitas,” Nadia said. “It was in the book.”

  The necklace practically ignited in my hand, responding to the words. But without essence coursing through her veins, the phrase was merely confirmation that the object was magical. No spell shot forth.

  This amulet, whatever it was, was a powerful piece of hardware. Light magic, from the vibe I was getting. Not my specialty by a long shot, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  I opened my mouth to scream and save us, but a tumbler rocketed through the air, like a missile through the night sky. It got me in the right ear, knocking me against the ground.

  “Kal!”

  “I…I don’t know,” I said, the world going fuzzy.

  I sensed the world beginning to quiet. Maybe it was just the concussion.

  “Protect—the something…” I said, struggling to form the correct words.

  Nadia loomed over me, shrouded by a black storm cloud of broken timbers and ruined dreams.

  “I’ll save you,” I said, which was true.

  Or it wasn’t.

  Nadia shrieked, yanked away by some unseen force. I reached out, catching only air.

  “No, mortal,” Isabella yelled, “if that is how it will be, then she will perish!”

  The magical storm dissipated from the air, like a fog parting. I could sense Lux reacting to the sudden lack of essence holding up its foundations.

  Nadia was nowhere to be found.

  “Die, Kalos,” Isabella said, “for what you have wrought on me.”

  I whispered a prayer that wasn’t mine into the amulet.

  The building hurtled toward my face at frightening speed. Ever have a twenty-ton freight train bearing down from the sky? Yeah, imagine that.

  I closed both eyes, and repeated the mantra.

  “Protectus gravitas.” Over and over.

  The wind screamed.

  The timbers creaked.

  In my mind, I was wondering what kind of afterlife would await. As long as it wasn’t Agonia or the Planes of Eternal Woe, I think I could handle my shit.

  But then a cushion of air sprang from the amulet, just as the building was about to collide with the earth. Like a spring breeze—fresh, clean and pure.

  Isabella’s voice, far away now, yelled in futility, “You will give me the spear I seek, mortal.”

  Then I opened my eyes.

  And everything was normal, except for two things.

  Gunnar’s bar was floating two feet off the Texas soil.

  And the only thing left behind of Nadia was a lonely high-heeled boot.

  23

  I rolled out from beneath the hovering Lux. Just in time, too, because the ruby amulet’s magic gave way. Lux collapsed into a shantytown heap that would be comical if Gunnar wasn’t going to murder me for how tonight went.

  He’d have to wait in line.

  Sirens cried in the distance. Apparently a freak storm on an otherwise calm Texas night was enough to draw the attention of emergency responders. There were a lot of things happening in Inonda that weren’t quite possible.

  Whoever was behind this mess might get their wish after all. The way things were going, the supernatural was going to be on the evening news stat.

  A cruiser rounded the corner, its red and blues flashing against the stream of abandoned bars and seedy bodegas. Without enough time to reliably hotwire the van, I fled on foot. I did stop to grab the Journal of Annihilation from the van. It was high time I did a little light reading.

  As I ducked into a nearby alleyway, I listened to the screech of tires. About the whole force was responding to this call. That gave me an idea.

  An insane one, but a desperate man doesn’t tend to have a lot of options.

  I checked my smartphone’s screen. Amazingly, Isabella’s tempest hadn’t cracked the screen. It was midnight, which left me less than twenty-one hours to figure out how not to get my ass skewered by Athena.

  And to unravel the mystery of the wolves.

  Oh, and to save Nadia from my psychotic ex.

  There’d have to be a whopper of a punchline for me to escape the gallows.

  But as I limped down the alley, journal clutched to my chest, jacket huddled around me, a plan began to form.

  The pieces began to fall into place.

  Going back to the source was the right inclination. The werewolves would break this whole thing open, if only I could find them. It would suck to kill Athena, only to be banished from Earth because I didn’t actually solve the investigation fo
r the Sol Council.

  I needed undeniable proof.

  And I would need Argos’ help to get it. Luckily, he’d be where I was going.

  I picked up speed, dashing off into the night.

  I was headed home.

  *

  The one policeman on duty was half-sleeping when I arrived, so it wasn’t exactly sporting to sock him in the mouth and knock him out cold. But I needed more time than a cat nap could afford. Hopefully Isabella’s temper tantrum would keep his fellow boys in blue busy.

  Forgoing stealth, I simply walked up the complex’s concrete path and climbed the steps to my apartment. Nadia’s unit had received a rudimentary coat of paint, and some of the burnt out shingles had been stripped off.

  Funny.

  Didn’t know that management had a broken windows policy.

  I looked at the steps, where a chalk outline sat. Too long to fit on the concrete, it simply ended in a kind of shapeless mess.

  “I’ll find who did it, Charon,” I said. “I promise.”

  My money was on Athena, but there’d been enough twists in the tale for me to understand that I required proof.

  The door was locked, so I knocked.

  I heard Argos scamper around and bark, and I let out a sigh of relief. One small favor in a life full of challenges. If there were gods, I would thank them. But all that I could thank was chance.

  Putting your fate in the hands of a dice roll, while exhilarating, is taxing to a man’s constitution.

  I opened the mail slot and whispered through. “It’s me.”

  “Kal? Jesus, man, I just saw this thing on the news. Gunnar is gonna—”

  “Yes. Gunnar is going to shit,” Gunnar said, his voice even sterner than usual. The lock opened, and a broad-shouldered blond man looked down at me, ready to wring the life-force from my neck. Lucky for me, demons taste like ass.

  We stared at one another, and I said, “Isabella.”

  “She is quite the problem, that one,” Gunnar said. “I will kill her, because you cannot.”

  There was a slight twinge in my stomach. Despite everything, the notion sat poorly with me. “Not necessary. I got the situation under control.”

  The television chattered in the corner as I stepped inside. I saw a picture of my driver’s license flash across the screen, indicating that I was wanted in an unrelated incident, armed, dangerous, all the usual stuff.

  I picked up the remote from the coffee table and shut the set off.

  “So I might be fresh out of favors with you guys at this point,” I said, glancing at the tall man and then down at the floor at the dog, “but hear me out.”

  “Lux was rather expensive.”

  “I’ll pay for it a dozen times over,” I said.

  Gunnar shot me a funny look. “You are not a wealthy man, Kalos.”

  “I have a couple secrets,” I said, pulling out my phone. A couple taps later, his device buzzed. “Check.”

  “I do not do this Pal Pay, or whatever it is called. Cash only.”

  “What about essence?”

  His cold blue eyes lit up. “I am listening.”

  “Go to those coordinates,” I said. “You’ll find a bomb shelter in the desert. Watch out. Isabella and Marrack have been tracking me the past couple days. They might have someone hanging around.”

  “I will rip their throat out with glee.”

  “I have no doubt you will, buddy,” I said, stifling a shiver. Gunnar brushed past me, eager to be made whole. It was good to have simple friends, sometimes. As long as you could pay up when the ledger was due.

  I gripped his burly forearm as he went by. His posture went ramrod straight, and his fangs flashed.

  Argos tucked his tail in between his legs.

  “I’m gonna tell you this,” I said slowly, looking into his ice blue eyes. “Because I trust you. But you fuck me on this, I swear to god, if I don’t die tomorrow, I will spend the next thousand years making you eat silver.”

  His posture relaxed, and he grinned. “Okay.”

  “At the office, in the corner,” I said as I extracted the bag of magical silver powder from my back pocket, “there’s a cloaked item. A very specific one.”

  “I am listening.”

  “Woden’s Spear.”

  I tried to gauge his reaction. Whether he would abscond with it, try to become king of the world. That was a problem with creatures of the dark. You never could quite trust them.

  But wasn’t that an issue everyone had? Trust was absolute until it was irreversibly shattered.

  “This is interesting news,” Gunnar said, showing no excitement. “You have acquired this artifact and not told me?”

  “Go to the desert, and there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I said. “Like your secret passage in Lux, right?”

  He shrugged, as if I had just told him to get a gallon of orange juice. “I will retrieve it. But Lux will be twice the size.”

  “Do whatever you want,” I said.

  In a blurry flash, he was gone, already racing off into the night.

  Argos stared up at me from the floor, his head cocked. His black and white fur stood on end.

  “What?”

  “I actually trust him,” Argos said. “I’m shocked.”

  “Even if he comes through, we’re both going to die,” I said. “You cool with that?”

  Argos got up and barked. “I’d prefer an alternative.”

  “Then I’m gonna need your help, buddy.”

  I walked over to the table and emptied my pockets. This time, I was more methodical. For some reason—it could be the antidote’s weakening effects—I was in an analytical mood. Confident that no additional spells were present amidst my gear, I left to head to the bedroom.

  Beneath the bed, I pulled out my spare gun case. Another .45. No one would ever accuse me of being anything but a simple man. But a .45 shot true, could stop a pissed off troll, and generally got the message across not to be fucked with.

  The Remkah Talisman padded against my neck as I walked back in the room. Argos was already on the dining room table, sniffing the new stuff. He glanced up as I entered.

  “I just wanted to tell you something, Kal.”

  “I forgot to feed you?”

  “You’re the best master I ever had,” Argos said.

  “Gettin’ all sentimental before I have to kill a bunch of people,” I said. “Pep talks could use some work, buddy.”

  “I’m just saying,” the dog said as he nudged Isabella’s blood vial with his nose, “Odysseus was a prick. You know, after he left me for all those years, he told Homer I was some sort of mutt? I mean seriously, the past three thousand years, I’ve had to deal with these factual inaccuracies. He needed a code, man.”

  I nodded at the strange border collie airing ancient grievances from my table. “Duly noted.”

  Argos looked up, his eyes sparkling. He barked twice, then said, “We owe it to Charon. You know that, right?”

  Yeah, I knew.

  That was why I was still here.

  24

  Some people would be intimidated if they had a dog that was smarter than them. But, really, I was thankful that Argos read all the stuff that bored me into a zombie-like trance. After explaining my theory that all the threads lead back to the genetically—magically?—engineered werewolf brood, he flipped to a page in the Journal with his snout.

  It left wet smudges on the corners of the pages.

  Also, if you’ve never seen a border collie wearing reading glasses, it’s hilarious.

  “Stop laughing,” Argos said in his most scholarly tone. “I need to read this to you.”

  “Seriously, man,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “Enough with the props.”

  “I need reading assistance. I’m quite old.” />
  “Yeah, yeah whatever,” I said, the laughter finally dying. “Read me the passage.”

  “Basically,” Argos said, clearing his throat with a barking yip, “there are five essential magical objects on Earth. Think of them as keys, pillars. Whoever controls them controls all the essence in the world. But there’s a catch.”

  “Which is?” I said, already bored by the lesson.

  “You need them all. If someone possesses all five of these objects, then they can control all the essence in the world. Essentially vacuum it all up and channel it for themselves. Absolute power.”

  “Hence Annihilation,” I said.

  “And you have two of them on the table,” Argos said, nodding at the Remkah Talisman and the ruby amulet. “The red stone is called the Carmine Chain.”

  “And the others?”

  “A jeweled scepter known as the Sabre of Immolation and a lion totem called the King’s Statue.”

  “You said there were five,” I said, surprised that I was actually engaged in the conversation.

  “The last one is simply unknown,” Argos said. “But that is not what I wished to read to you about.”

  “All right then, man, get to the point. Kind of on the lam, here.”

  “Very well,” Argos said. “The fifth and final object will reveal itself only when those of magical blood walk freely amongst the mortals.”

  I did a quick trace through my mind. “So when Athena took the werewolves from Charon, she thought that she could cause chaos, reveal the final object, and waltz off with it.”

  “Something like that, I would suspect,” Argos said. “Not a bad plan. Anarchy often masks greater evil.”

  That was all the confirmation I needed.

  She’d unleashed the blood drug on the world, killed Charon, and done it all presumably without the Conclave’s blessing.

  The main question left was simple: why?

  And how did Marrack and Isabella fit into this? The explanation seemed to be on the tip of my tongue, but my anger and thirst for vengeance prevented clarity from materializing.

  I stared at the objects scattered about the table.

  “You still keeping up with your potions,” I asked.

  “Of course.” Argos closed the Journal of Annihilation with his nose and gave me an indignant look. “I’m here eight hours a day by myself.”