Demon Lord 6: Garnet Tongue Goddess

by Morgan Blayde

  “It can stop bullets, swords, knives, chainsaws, and has a fire retardant treatment that can stand up to your own dragon fire—at least for a while,” the Old Man said.

  I fingered one of three red-crystal cabochons implanted in the chest plate. “Selene added these, too?”

  “Magic stones. In smoke and fire, or underwater, the stones will keep your blood magically oxygenated. Each stone has a half-hour air supply.”

  “That will come in handy if the naga attempts to lose me in the lake again.”

  “That’s quite a woman you have there.”

  “Yeah, nothing more impressive than an insanely powerful beauty with no moral compass.”

  The Old Man knuckled a tear from one eye. His voice shook just a little. “She called me Dad. You’d better treat her right, hear me?”

  I am so screwed.

  “I suppose you invited her to your wedding?”

  “Well, of course.”

  “Did it not occur to you that with most of my harem attending, violence becomes inevitable by adding a rogue goddess?”

  “You’ll just have to tell everyone to behave. Surely, we can all act like adults for one evening.”

  I began to untangle the suit from the manikin. “Not fucking likely. With any luck, Selene will still be gathering intelligence from the Slayer Village dimension.”

  I can always hope.

  I noticed there was an empty sheath strapped to the suit’s the upper thigh. That’s new. Why a sheath but no knife? A thought hit me. I knelt and jerked up my pants leg. Underneath, protruding from my right steel-toed boot, was the wavy garnet tongue I’d taken from the nagi temple. Thorn had said I’d need it—eventually. I drew the knife-life, rippling length from my boot and slid the blade into the empty sheath on the suit.

  Fits perfectly. Why am I not surprised?

  I stood and, suit in hand, headed back toward the Great Hall with the Old Man beside me. My demon security should be assembling, loaded down with weaponry. We needed to get back on task soon.

  “About the upcoming wedding?” I said.

  “Yes?” He slanted me a look to show interest in my thoughts, a rare event.

  “I know how we can save some money. Call it off. We both know my cousin doesn’t want to marry you. She’s being forced by the dragon emperor.”

  “If I call it off instead of the emperor, it will be seen as an act of disrespect. Your mother’s family will have to declare vendetta against us, or suffer loss of respect among dragon-kind that will invite others trying to step on them.”

  “We should offer to hit the emperor. It’s a win-win situation. The marriage is called off, and we make money. And with the loss of an imperial head, the dragon world will be preoccupied for a long time with in-fighting, so we can take our time getting around to them on our list of enemies.”

  The Old Man sighed. The sound went on forever—his new way of irritating me. Seriously, old people need to get a life. He said, “You haven’t thought it out. An assassination would plunge us immediately, deeply, into dragon politics.”

  “How so? And when did you put this elevator in?”

  I pushed the call button and the door opened. The car had been waiting. We stepped on and he pushed a button on the control panel. We rose.

  “You need to cultivate a deeper habit of paranoia and always assume your underlings are idiots. Pay attention to little things. If you don’t run the clan, it will run you.”

  “One day, we’ll talk without you falling into lecture mode and I’ll crap my pants in sheer surprise.”

  He continued to lecture—because he could. “To answer your question; you don’t seem to realize that your cousin is from the cadet branch of the royal family, as is the emperor. Your mother is the true heir of the main branch. It can be argued that your own claim supersedes that of the emperor as well.” The doors opened and we emerged on a back hallway of the Great Hall. The Old Man led the way toward the throne room. He said, “From the time you were discovered to be in my care, the emperor has plotted your death. Failing that, he’s planned how to neutralize you so he can keep a throne that isn’t his. Had you been pure-blood, other dragons would have connived to force you on the throne as a figurehead. Everybody likes power.”

  “So you’re saying I’ve been left alone, but if I meddle, I’ll be ass-deep in flaming dragon shit.”

  “Try not to cuss. It troubles the serenity of my soul.”

  We cut through the kitchen. The kitchen staff was divided among various duties. The aroma of mushroom chicken and braised baby carrots filled the air. Many of the demons stopped what they were doing to bow with respect to the Old Man.

  He said. “You’ll be butt-deep in burning excrement eventually, but unless you stir up trouble now, you can pick when we’ll have to deal with imperials.”

  “I hate politics. It’s much easier to just kill things that piss me off.”

  “I think the emperor shares that point of view. Unfortunately, politics has a way of creeping in when you’re out to conquer the known universe.”

  I stopped by a stainless steel counter near a stainless steel fridge. I’d worked up a stainless steel hunger that needed denting. I wondered what they had lying around for a quick snack.

  “I want the unknown universe too.” I quoted my favorite song by Queen: “I want it all and I want it now!” I glared at a kitchen worker who clutched his hands in front of him, as if about to ward off a blow. “I want hard salami and Colby cheese on crackers, served with the appropriate wine.” I considered options. “A German Kabinett Riesling is acceptable.” The lower alcohol would work better with the salty food.

  The attendant gestured toward a prep table with high-rise seats that let one’s feet dangle above the floor. I scowled at the chairs. They were too much like a child’s high chair.

  He said, “If you’ll have a seat, I’ll see what we can do.”

  I went to the table, dumped my zombie-apocalypse suit there, and took a seat. The Old Man joined me. “So, about the wedding; I’m still deciding on the menu.”

  “I may have some naga flank steaks for you soon. I hear it tastes just like chicken.”

  “It doesn’t.” The Old Man looked at me and a deep buried, darker version of him peeped out of his eyes. A shiver, that might have been dread, touched me for the smallest moment. Here was the sadistic predator that had trained me in martial arts—half killing me numerous times to build my strength.

  Kitchen workers slid platters of food before us, offerings to their gods. The Old Man touched my forearm as I reached for the appetizers. “Caine, about the naga steaks…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t do me any favors.”

  As a small child, I’d quickly learned to distrust him, but that didn’t always help me. My thoughts slid into the past…

  We were in Oregon, the middle of nowhere. There was a road that saw little traffic. We were staying a few weeks in a rustic cabin on a hill. Quite the adventure.

  In those days, the Old Man used magic to blend in, concealing scars, tats, and blue skin. That made him just another bodybuilder with a shaved head. In public, people stared, but no one called the police to say a child was going to be eaten by a troll.

  He stood near the tree’s base, arms crossed. I looked down on his shiny head until he lifted his eyes to me. His eyes burned with smoldering fire as I hung by my hands, clinging to a swaying branch that seemed likely to break at any time. My branch extended out over a sheer drop. If I were to lose my grip, I’d fall hundreds of feet onto piled rocks.

  Not my idea; this was just where he’d put me.

  “Can I get down now?” I asked. “I’m getting pretty tired.”

  Actually, my hands hurt. The bark dug painfully into my palms. Sweat ran in runnels down my arms and back. The tee shirt I wore clung damply.

  He shook his head. “Give it another hour.”

  “But I could fall and die.”

  “That would greatly disappoint me,” he said. �
��Still, if something like this can destroy you, you’d never make it in the kind of life you have ahead of you.”

  “Don’t do me any favors,” I said.

  “What’s that? You say you can do two hours, easy?”

  I shut up before he went to three.

  “It’s hot out here,” he said. “I’m going back to the cabin for a tall, icy glass of lemonade. I’d offer you some but I can see you’re busy.”

  “Demons suck,” I muttered.

  “I heard that.”

  “Who needs you? I’ll just climb down and go join the circus.”

  “Well, you are coming along nicely with the knife-throwing, but don’t think you can leave the tree until I say so—unless you fall and die. I’ll overlook that.”

  “How very blue of you.”

  “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. By the way, I have radio-controlled land mines buried around here and I’ll be watching from the window.” He pulled a silver box from a pocket. The detonator was the size of a matchbox, with a red button on it and a stubby antennae.

  “So leave already,” I shouted. “Everyone does, sooner or later.”

  He pocketed the box but didn’t leave right away. He stared at me for several moments as time slipped out of joint, becoming elastic. His face lost emotion. I had the sense that he was seeing something other than me and the damn tree.

  Finally, he said, “There’s a difference between me and your parents.”

  “Yeah, you’re alive.” Back then I believed what he’d told me; that they’d died in a car crash, leaving him to raise me.

  “Not just that,” he said. “Unlike your parents, I’ll be back for you. Unless you fall and die and wolves eat you. I am an ancient Atlantean demon, very powerful, hard to kill. I intend to live forever.”

  “So?”

  “So I’ll always be in your life, whether you like it or not.”

  I glared in appreciation. “Don’t do me no favors.”

  1

  NINETEEN

  “Everyone is disposable

  until proven useful to me.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  A day and night passed with no problems. That let me know a hell of a lot more trouble was coming than I’d anticipated—or the naga wasn’t as stupid as I’d thought and he’d slithered off to lick his wounds, and maybe get laid.

  Bet the ghost lights won’t try to kill his fun.

  If an attack were on the way, I had twenty demons with battle experience on hand. That should be enough for this situation. I could have brought more muscle, but that would be draining my wallet dangerously.

  I’d told the extra security to stay close. Spread too thin, we’d be picked off one at a time. I had Shiva handling external security: eight guys including her. Six demons were sleeping, resting up for the night shift. That left four in the first floor halls, and three getting brunch in the cafeteria.

  Holy was in the second floor command center, accessing the cameras around the property. I’d brought along a demon geek for tech backup, swiped from the War Room. He didn’t count as a warrior and wasn’t getting combat pay. He also didn’t dare complain. I didn’t remember his name; just called him Bobble-Head because his head always seemed to be in motion, even when seated in front of a monitor. He was thin as a rail and had a permanent forward slouch. I considered calling him Vulture instead. If his neck were just a little longer…

  I stood behind Holy, wearing my new zombie-apocalypse suit, breaking it in. The black helmet and tinted visor I’d left in my room. She kept looking over her shoulder at me—dazzled by my coolness, no doubt. Finally, it got on my nerves.

  “What?” I said. “Never seen a crimson cod-piece?” I hadn’t yet got around to painting that part of the suit black.

  “Why am I stuck in here? I’m a soldier. I have mad combat skills—damn it—that are being wasted.”

  “You are what I say you are, unless you’re going to leave the clan and join the circus.”

  Her eyes widened. “What am I, a knife-thrower? This is because I slept with Christie and you’re pissed off.”

  “It would piss anyone off. I had her first. You could have at least invited me to the shower. I have mad soap skills you know, you selfish bitch.”

  She stood and came around her chair to face me. Her eyes blazed, a hard pink glow. Threads of electric fire lifted her hair into a cloud. Micro-jags of lightning played over her pink top and black leggings, wreathing arms and legs. Her sneakers were pink as well, with pale blue laces. “You are really starting to piss me off, you know?”

  Bobble-Head ducked a little lower, keeping his eyes on the monitor like a good boy.

  I met her stare with a harder one. “Don’t make your issues my problem. You won’t like my solutions.” I turned and walked to the door, half expecting her to hit me with a lightning bolt. I was out the door and several steps down the outer hall when my dragon hearing picked up her defiant mutter.

  “I’m not scared of you.”

  I stopped to listen.

  Bobble-Head said, “You ought to watch it. He’s gotten better, but a lot of us still remember the Night of the Red Moon. You weren’t with the clan then, you don’t know…”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Holy asked.

  “They say he turned the moon red with the blood of angels, that the dead walked, and the wolves fell to his demon sword like drunken poodles. Hell opened wide to swallow the city. They say he beat the fallen legions of the abyss and ripped the city free of the slavering maw of Death. The vamps and dragons tread carefully around him. The fey run when he says boo.”

  “That jerk?” Holy said.

  “I’ve heard it said that he hides a demonic genus under that bad attitude. Those that underestimate him don’t usually live to regret it. You were going to throw lightning at him, right, and thought better of it?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “He’s killed a lot of storm fey assassins that tried the same thing. He’s on a whole other level from us.”

  All of that was nice to hear, but a lot of it was bullshit, too. Still, if I ever needed a press release typed up, Bobble-Head was the one to call.

  I took the stairs to the first floor and went to the cafeteria. Three demons were hanging out, plates of food in front of them. One demon was organic metal with an extra set of arms. Another was a walking pile of obsidian stones. Stone grinded on stone with every movement he made. The third demon was well-known to me; Stygis. His blue foil suit was mirror bright around the shoulders, reflecting the light of his blue-fire hair. His eyes were orange coals under his jutting brow. His nose was a blunt, wide blade of an appendage, his mouth a slash in his yellow face. An assortment of bladed weapons were hung all over him like Christmas ornaments.

  The idle chatter died as I arrived, but no one sprang to salute or anything. These were seasoned troops. They knew not to betray their officers when enemy eyes might be watching by regular or magical means.

  I went to the kitchen and helped myself to a bottle of Blue Moon beer. Whoever had stocked up knew enough to buy oranges. I sliced an orange into thin wedges, opened the bottle, squeezed some juice in, and dropped the crinkled wedge in: my version of brunch.

  I dropped into a chair and put my feet up. Stygis left the others and took a seat opposite of me. He leaned in and put both elbows on the table. The knuckles of one yellow hand rapped the table twice like a customer summoning the attention of a waiter. “So when are these snake bastards showing up?”

  I shrugged. Thorn came into the room. I waved her over. “Here’s the person to ask.”

  He looked at the pointy-eared fey girl in her razor-slashed jeans and black crop-top tee. “An intel source?”

  “For now.” It was well known that for years, I’d run the Intel Unit of the clan and had overseen our Special Ops. I nodded.

  Thorn stopped just out of reach, her eyes dancing with the light of fey mischief. “They’re coming.”

  The other conversations
in the room died. Everyone listened.

  Thorn said. “They’re coming up through the foundation of the secret temple, under the chapel. There’s a door that’s been sealed off from the school. They’ll be bursting through in a few minutes. A second, larger group of naga will be coming over the hill from the lake.”

  I stood and faced a wall-mounted cameras. “Holy! Call the sleepers. Get them up and head to the back of the property. Bring the guards out front into the building. Those here will intercept the group from the chapel.”

  Stygis was on his feet, a fucking huge battle ax clenched in one big fist. The light of battle shone in his eyes.

  I jerked a thumb toward the exit. “Go out the door and down the corridor to the left. Look for double doors with a chain and padlock. And have fun.”

  He grinned hugely. “On it.” He gestured to the other demons present. “Let’s go, guys.” They all thundered out, eager to kill.

  I gave Thorn my full attention. “Anything special I need to be doing?”

  “Just keep me alive.”

  “That’s high on my list of priorities,” I said.

  “I’m going up to the monitor room. I’ll be back down when it’s over.”

  “Then I’ll find something to keep me busy.” I summoned my Storm PX4 semi-automatics from the ether. Clips full of mf-tipped rounds, the weapons popped into my hands, safeties off. I made my own explosive rounds. Mercury fulminate does a lot more damage than a regular bullet. The last step must always be to magically bless the jackets so the rounds don’t blow up in the gun upon firing.

  I headed for the hall, chasing after Stygis and his pals. I caught up to them outside the chained double doors of the chapel. The enemy hadn’t yet broke through. As we waited, several of the demons from the front of the property came up behind me. One was a raptor-beaked humanoid with bronze feathers on arms and a cockatoo crest on his head. His eyes were dark stones tinted with smears of red. He cackled and breathed out a little fire.