Demon Rogue (The Half-Demon Rogue Book 1)

by Erikson, D. N.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “If you would let me walk myself, perhaps my skills would lapse.”

  “I’m not sure if I should be apologizing, seeing as how your indoor time could save our asses,” I said, pushing the severed paw and the eye dropper full of Isabella’s blood his way.

  “Just a little walk,” Argos said.

  “You remember that time with animal control.”

  “I don’t like the mailman.”

  “And if you weren’t such a cliché, then you could walk yourself.”

  He hung his head like I’d hurled the worst insult in the world at him. “I am trying to overcome my nature.”

  “I’m beginning to think both of us should just roll with it.” I patted his rough coat, and he wagged his tail. “Show me how to do this.”

  “What do you need done,” Argos said, his pride restored. The lights above flickered on and off. I thought nothing of it. Blackouts were no longer even an inconvenience.

  “I need you to summon Isabella,” I said. “Can you do that with just her blood?” She was remarkably spry for someone who had suffered a gunshot wound just a few days prior. Her powers were even more impressive than I had remembered. Getting back Nadia was high on the list.

  Probably not the best thing to admit that it wasn’t my main concern. In fairness, the world was threatened with total and absolute destruction by a literal goddess killer.

  “Yes,” Argos said. “Should be pretty simple. An hour, tops.”

  That meant it’d be ready with over a dozen hours to spare. Good stuff.

  “And the paw,” I said, holding the matted fur out. “You can’t get a bead on the werewolf’s location from it, can you?”

  “I’m not a witch, Kal.”

  “I know.”

  “But I can analyze it. Maybe figure out what the Crimson Conclave wanted with them in the first place. Could help.” Argos took the severed extremity in his mouth and hopped down from the table. So much for being a man of wealth and taste.

  When push came to shove, though, we both knew what it took to survive.

  It’d been a long time since I’d been a betting man, but I thought Vegas would give us better odds than you might think on pulling this one out.

  I was just preparing the boiling water for the first potion when the lights zapped out.

  “Not funny, Kal.”

  “Just a power outage,” I said before a tear gas grenade came rocketing through the window, exploding nearby. I dropped the pot of hot water, narrowly missing my chest, and fell to the floor.

  The door was next. It broke in two with a crunch that I would’ve deemed satisfying, if it wasn’t to my place. Jackbooted officers plunged through the misty gas. Rough hands tore at the back of my shirt, and hurled me outside.

  I crumbled to the concrete, dry heaving from the tear gas. Argos’ hoarse barks punctuated the pre-dawn air. But what I focused on was a familiar nemesis crowing about his victory.

  “We got you dead to rights, you necromancing bastard,” Detective Scott said. An assault rifle poked me in the ribs. “Your bullshit ain’t gonna fly around here any more, Aeon.”

  “Office,” I said, between coughs, “don’t you have some parking tickets to write?”

  “Keep laughing, Aeon. You won’t be doing it in jail.”

  Then he hauled me to a cruiser.

  And through bleary eyes, I watched as we pulled away, my last chance of survival slipping through my fingertips like grains of gray sand.

  25

  They threw me in a holding cell at the Inonda Precinct. Which you think would be a pretty podunk little place, but it was actually surprisingly robust. I had the cell to myself, which gave me plenty of time to think when the door closed.

  Can’t say this was the first time I’d found myself behind bars. But not quite in a situation this bad.

  Nadia was under Isabella’s control.

  The Sol Council was creating strange werewolves for some undetermined purpose.

  And Athena was going to kill my ass at around nine that night. Charon’s murder would go unavenged. To top it off—after the blood drug chaos spread amongst the populace—Athena would be free to destroy the world.

  For some reason, I wasn’t as concerned about Marrack, the Marksmen, or spending the next twenty years in jail. But those were all valid concerns as well.

  Sweat dripped from my hair, a combination of my rising anger and the swampy cell. A rusted sink with the knobs ripped off sat in the corner, along with a toilet that looked more like a black hole than anything I would ever venture toward.

  Probably like the Ritz in comparison to Agonia.

  I could bend the steel with my magic, knock down the door to the main area of the precinct. Hell, I could level the place if I really wanted to. But becoming like one of Marrack’s Vanished wasn’t tremendously appealing.

  My hands sizzled slightly when they touched the bars. When I removed my fingers, there was a slight burn mark. I was running hot, and if I didn’t get things under control, I might not have much of a choice.

  I paced about the cell, trying to make sense of an impossible puzzle.

  There was one detail I hadn’t focused on before that leapt out at me. The paw. More specifically, who had brought it to my door, and insisted that I take on her case.

  Isabella Kronos.

  I’d never doubted her involvement in the overall scheme. Where there was dark magic and shady dealings, she had always been nearby, although rarely at the epicenter. Was she helping Athena foment chaos to reveal the final object? Not likely. If Isabella knew about the five magical objects, then I suspect she wouldn’t be bothering me about Woden’s Spear so damn much.

  The pieces clicked together.

  “No, that’s stupid,” I said out loud, shaking the thought from my head. But I couldn’t get rid of it, as narcissistic as it was.

  It was hard to deny.

  There were a lot of events in play, and they all seemed to be orbiting one person.

  One with a rather nebulous destiny.

  A salvage retrieval specialist who could do a lot of heavy lifting. Maybe even assemble a few of the pieces unwittingly.

  The paw had been like bait dangled before my face. And like an idiot, I had bitten down, hard. Then again, I would’ve had to find everything out anyway. Diana made that much clear—my sunshine privileges would be revoked if I didn’t deliver the goods.

  It was obvious. Marrack and Isabella hadn’t freed themselves from their respective banishments. That I already knew.

  But they were working for Athena.

  Perhaps under a certain warden relationship.

  Fat lot of investigating I could do, holed up in a cell.

  The door opened, and Detective Scott tramped in. Rodriguez trailed behind, his leg in a walking boot.

  “Looking spry, Detective,” I said. “It wasn’t personal.”

  Dom grunted something and flipped me the bird. Couldn’t blame him for that one.

  “That was some trick, Aeon,” Scott said, pacing back and forth in the narrow space before the cell. His thick sausage fingers were folded around his bearded chin, like he was thinking real hard about something.

  “I do parties, too.”

  “I don’t think you’ll be doing anything for a while,” Scott said. “Murder one. Attempted murder of a law enforcement officer. Assault with intent to injure. There’s more, I’m sure, once we’re done turning over your place.”

  “Let me know what you find.”

  “Maybe we’ll find the knife you used to carve your name into his chest. K-A-L-O-S.”

  He traced the letters in the air with a grim satisfaction.

  “I doubt that very much, since I’m innocent.”

  “Or maybe we’ll just find stolen shit.”

&nbs
p; Scott pulled out a clear plastic evidence bag, which held the Carmine Chain. God, if I got Nadia back only to explain that the cops had her mother’s necklace, I would be more fucked than if Athena killed me.

  I swallowed hard and said, “Doesn’t really match your eyes, Detective.”

  “Funny,” Scott said, cracking a grim smile. “He’s funny, ain’t he Dom?”

  “Sometimes,” Detective Rodriguez answered. Scott shot him a nasty look. “What?”

  “You’re supposed to agree with me,” Scott said.

  “He’s a funny cat occasionally,” Rodriguez said with a shrug. “Don’t mean he isn’t an asshole.”

  “That’s more like it,” Scott said, turning back to me with a leering stare. “You’re gonna tell me about your tricks, Aeon. I knew they weren’t just rumors on the thumb drive. You’re a damn freak, is what you are.”

  “No argument there,” I said, a gambit springing to mind. “Say, I get a phone call, right?”

  Scott looked like I’d just pooped on his lawn. “You don’t get anything unless I say so.”

  “Didn’t know the Supreme Court was here,” I said.

  “I’m the only court you got,” Scott replied, but lost a little of his fire. Him and Rodriguez shared a look. They understood that, no matter how bad they wanted to avoid protocol, this investigation needed to be completely by the book.

  “It’ll be a local call.”

  “Maybe it’s to the pound,” Scott said. “Your dog can answer. Doubt this prick has any friends. Or a lawyer.”

  Rodriguez didn’t laugh.

  Apparently I was funnier.

  That one had to sting.

  “While my dog is an excellent conversationalist,” I said, “I would prefer to phone someone else.” Given the circumstances, I was surprised at my own politeness. From how hot my skin felt, I must’ve been a deep shade of red.

  “All right, Aeon,” Scott said, walking away with Rodriguez, “you’ll get your call. Just don’t blow a gasket while we’re gone. I wanna see you rot for what you’ve done.”

  “Happy to oblige,” I called back as the door closed.

  After a couple minutes, and no phone call, it was obvious they were gonna make me wait it out.

  I didn’t have time to burn.

  The metaphorical knives were falling, and they all looked lethal.

  I clenched my fists tightly, and began to focus. Everything that had ever made me angry burst through my amygdala, transferring into pure power. Tunnel vision set in, with the three bars directly before my nose about the only world I knew. I began searching for souls that I could harness nearby for the purpose. Direct contact was better, but with enough effort, I could snatch them through the air, as I had done to Scott two days prior.

  I reached forward.

  The wall cracked.

  My concentration broken, I stepped back.

  The glare of headlights stared back at me, through the busted concrete. A blurry flash surged over the hood and stopped before me.

  “Might want to use that rage on the bars, my friend,” Gunnar said. “I believe the police will notice soon.”

  I looked down at my hands, and with the demonic rage simmering in my chest, bent the steel apart. A small shard of my human life was devoured, like a series of pin pricks to the heart. Gunnar helped me into the SUV, and sped off, a hail of gunfire pursuing us.

  “I heard it on the radio,” Gunnar said. “And I thought you could use some help. It is good for you that I have a grander vision for the new Lux.”

  “Three times bigger,” I said, staring at the window.

  Gunnar smiled, and we drove.

  26

  “This is where we part ways, my friend,” Gunnar said, offering me a strong handshake at the Inonda border.

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Perhaps to Austin,” he said, turning his head toward the sky to check the status of the impending dawn. A vamp caught in the sun wasn’t a pleasant sight. “I must go to ground.”

  “I can’t convince you to stay?”

  “There is no club big enough for that, friend,” Gunnar said. “Your many trinkets are in the back. I will expect my payment when I return.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I can retrieve them just as easily from a dead man.” He clasped my wrist with his free hand. “But do be careful Kalos.”

  “Don’t go soft on me now.”

  “Perhaps I want to see you get the girl for once, my friend,” he said with a shrug, his hair cascading like a waterfall over his broad shoulders. “I am sure it has been what, many hundreds of years?”

  “Asshole.”

  He gave me a stiff wink, then sped off. It wasn’t the worst place to be in—next to an SUV packed with magical salvage and potions—but the loneliness set in once his blurry form sped over the horizon. I didn’t even have a cell phone to call in a lifeline. That was still at the precinct.

  This was my fight alone, and I still was battling shadows.

  I assumed Isabella’s blood was in evidence, along with the paw. My .45, too. They’d stripped me of the Remkah Talisman, since it was an apparent “suicide hazard.”

  Well, no one claimed felling a goddess was ever easy.

  I stared at the empty desert, the two lane road that stretched on to nowhere, then I got back in the car. The dashboard chimed to let me now the keys had been left inside. How courteous. A quick glance in the rearview showed that my entire haul over the centuries was intact.

  It’s strange to have your entire life’s work sitting behind you. Like a referendum on how you’ve spent your days. Had I done enough? Were my accomplishments enough? I had battled dragons, slain warlords. Banished a powerful wiccan to the Eternal Planes. And those were just a few of the bullet points on my resume.

  But all those actions felt aimless, empty. I had been wandering for thousands of years, ever since Charon had saved me on the shores of the River Styx. No destiny had presented itself, only a life of endless scars and battles.

  Even a demon can tire of that, you give him long enough.

  I slammed the door shut and reflected on my next move.

  It all narrowed around one thing.

  I would have to face the person I was most afraid of.

  Me.

  *

  Okay, that might’ve been a little melodramatic. But when you play with dark essence—or any magic, really—you understand that it’s highly combustible. I’d seen many creatures succumb to the lust for power. This was why I had stopped consuming the essence from my salvage operations.

  Instead, I had stored it for a rainy day. A retirement plan, perhaps.

  Or a last ditch effort.

  I trotted up to the hut in the desert, hoping that I had the right place. It had been three years since I had first visited, to cut down on a little of the junk that just wouldn’t fit neatly in the bomb shelter.

  Yeah, I know. I’m a disorganized mess, but my treasure hoard needed to be presented with utmost care. This wasn’t some weird affectation, but born out of experience. Get a couple of the wrong potions in close proximity, and you had a biohazard on your hand.

  Or serious, ahem, performance issues for the next month.

  I brushed against the beads that served as a door, and smoke filtered out.

  “Come in, Kalos the Dragon Slayer,” the old woman said. “You have returned.”

  “I have,” I said, entering the small room. It was so smoky that I wondered how she didn’t asphyxiate. Then again, Alchemists were always a weird bunch. Last time, I’d given her a dragon scale and divulged one of my tales. Hence the dragon slayer moniker.

  As the nicknames I’d been given over the years went, I’d take it.

  “I sense great disturbance in your life. Sit, my child.”

&nbs
p; “I’m in a little hurry,” I said. “Big project.”

  “And this project is?”

  “Someone needs to die,” I said. “I’m trying to make sure it isn’t me.”

  Fortunately, this woman wasn’t the granola munching type. She understood how the cycle of life worked. Or maybe she had just huffed too many magical fumes, and we were both off our rockers.

  Nonetheless, she said, “I will transmute your objects into whatever you choose.”

  “Pure essence,” I said.

  “Dark or light?”

  “Maximum yield.” It was possible to transmute dark essence into light, but there was some inevitable magic loss. I would have to embrace both parts of who I was if I wanted to become as powerful as possible.

  There were other ways to get at the magical energy, too, but all of them were messy and inefficent by comparison.

  “A grave danger faces you, child.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “And my payment?”

  “You want a car with a busted front fender?”

  “I have no use for such mortal trinkets,” the alchemist replied. Through the drifting smoke, I saw her face, sage and concentrated on what lay before her. A master dedicated to a single craft.

  I considered explaining that it had all wheel drive, but that probably wasn’t going to sway her.

  “What was it that we agreed upon last time?”

  “A story of your past,” the alchemist said. “Of times forgotten by history.”

  “I’ll tell you a hell of a love story,” I said. “That work?”

  I saw her smile through the swirling mist.

  “That will do, my child. Now bring me the objects so that I may begin.”

  27

  The bear-skin flask was incapable of holding all the distilled essence. In its most basic form, essence—or mana, as the ancients call it—is a kind of viscous fluid, thick like a good maple syrup. The circumstances were not optimal, as essence became more powerful as a creature bonded with it over time, grew old.

  But I had twelve hours to get acquainted. Even if I was full-strength, what lay ahead would overmatch my abilities pretty damn quickly.