“We’re going to need a large tray,” Kat muttered, moving off.
One hand on the loaf of bread, Osamu opened various drawers, peering inside. “I require a sharp knife.”
Cleo and Terri appeared beside me, their hands caressing my back and shoulder. They pressed up against my arms, purring. Someone seized my butt and squeezed. My protective shield didn’t activate so I knew that whatever attack they were engaged in was one we’d all enjoy. Apparently, bloodshed makes werekitties horny.
Something to keep in mind.
Kat pulled a humongous butcher’s knife from a sixteen slot, bamboo knife block. Knife in hand, she hurried back toward Osamu. “I’ve got just the thing … here?”
Osamu stood poised like a Japanese coon-dog in the headlights, his demon sword gripped by his right hand. From the look on his face, I thought the blade had come without him calling it. At least, I hoped he’d not use something like that to make sandwiches.
Osamu spun toward Kat, pulling his hand off the loaf of bread.
She crouched, knife outstretched, a threat.
An earnest tone drenched Osamu’s words, “Ma’am, this is not what you think. I am still learning how to control the summoning.”
Cleo squealed in my ear, “Oooo, that is so cool. Do it again!”
She and Terri were bouncing up and down, claws absently digging into me. I was forced to grab them rather firmly to settle them down. Hmmmm. Thirty-two C and thirty-four B cups.
The kitchen door opened inward. A broad-shouldered blond stood backlit by the sun. He wore a red and white checked shirt with pearl snaps, faded jeans, and worn hiking boots. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows. His forearms showed that he knew what to do with barbells. His tawny eyes swept across me and the two werekitties I clutched, over to Osama. The stranger’s stare stopped cold on the katana.
The stranger shuddered, swelling in the doorway. His torso rippled, muscles clumping, thickening. Already big, he became bigger. Baring white fangs, he emitted a coughing grunt that possessed echoes of pain. Such a fast and radical change had to produce extreme agony. Golden fur sprouted, covering him. There were faint white tiger stripes in the fur. His face flowed like wax, becoming lion-like with a broad, flat nose and receding forehead.
Oh, crap, the liger!
TEN
Hell hath no fury like a pissed off liger.
—Caine Deathwalker
The liger’s topaz eyes filled with rage and murder. His clothing tore away as his change bent him to all fours, hands becoming claw-tipped paws. Though no longer standing as a man, his head was a good two feet above anyone else’s in the room. His leg bones melted, remolded, hardening again with greater mass. The rampant cellular growth was going to leave him hungry.
Very hungry. Not good.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I said.
I’m wasting my words. There probably isn’t enough human mind for him to understand me—or care.
The girls in my arms were still, staring in fearless fascination at the liger. It wasn’t that they were too dumb to be terrified. They were cats too. Part of the Cat Clan. Like Kat, they were safe. Too bad Osamu and I can’t say the same thing.
I warmed a tat. Pain knifed through my guts as I paid for protective magic, a smoky red half-shell of light that hung between me and the beast.
A blur of gold, the liger lunged past me.
Osamu whirled away, his demon sword slashing the air, its thrum keening louder in hunger. The dark red garnets and yellow tiger’s eye of the blade streaked the air with light. Blood sprayed, fanning the air, falling across the tiled floor and the prep table. Like the lettuce, the French bread looked mortally wounded, in need of bandages.
The liger’s roar shook the house. His right arm was slashed forearm to shoulder.
Lucky as hell, Osamu got off with a ripped shirt. Had the liger struck his flesh, more blood would have flown, bones would have shattered; Osama would have been flung against a far wall like a rag doll.
Stopping just outside my barrier, Osama turned to face the liger, sword braced in a two-handed grip, a little bit of space separating his hands on the hilt.
The liger turned to us, keeping Kat safely at his back. The free-flowing blood from his arm dried up as the wound closed with supernatural speed.
I felt a rub at my ankle and looked down to see the Siamese. He peered up at me and made a hungry mewling sound.
The liger’s fierce golden stare dropped to the cat. Tension bled from his body as he relaxed. He seemed to trust the judgment of the cat, making no attempt to renew hostility. Kat came up behind him, caressing his back, riffling his mane as he lowered his face to hers, drinking in her scent.
The previous change ran in reverse. Just as he returned to human form, my barrier flickered out, letting me know I was safe.
“Just a misunderstanding,” Kat murmured. “They’re friends of friends.”
Joshua Kent wrapped his arms around Kat, holding her for a long moment before releasing her, all-the-while never taking his eyes off me.
The girls I held studied his naked anatomy with polite interest. He was Kat’s, but that only meant they couldn’t touch. Terri shook me off and reached into a pocket for a phone. She did an internet search, then punched in a new number, ordering a dozen pizzas for delivery. After two quick changes, we all knew the liger would need the calories.
I looked at the blood-drenched lettuce and bread. Oddly, my hunger was undiminished. A buried part of me stirred, licking its lips. That felt weird, even for me.
Cleo pulled away from me, picked up the Siamese, and carried him over to his food bowl by the pantry. She opened the doors and rummaged, coming back out with a ten pound bag of dry food. As she shook some out, a second Siamese ran into the kitchen, up to the bowl for her share.
Osamu flicked his wrists and the demon sword vanished into thin air, returning to my treasure room back in Malibu.
“Good job,” I said. “You managed not to die.”
“Thank you, Caine-sama.”
Joshua padded to the fridge. He opened it and grazed from various shelves, tearing into cold chicken, apples, guzzling a half gallon of milk like it was nothing. He paused long enough to call over his shoulder to Kat, “Would you mind getting me some clothes, we have strangers in the house.
“On it.” She hustled between Osama and me, heading back to the living room. I listened to her run up a flight of steps to the second floor.
Joshua turned toward us, an armful of food pinned against his chest so it couldn’t get away. His gaze raked Osamu and me. Chomping on a celery stick, he asked, “Who are you guys anyway?”
I smiled. “Caine Deathwalker. You might have heard of me.”
He grunted and swallowed the food in his mouth. “I’ve read your file.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re law enforcement? Feds?”
“One-time Texas Ranger. One-time PRT. One-time human.” He rounded the island so it was between us. On his side of the prep area, there were a couple barstools. He set his food down and seated himself. Reaching across the table, he picked up a sealed package of Colby cheese slices. I was surprised he took the time to separate the little paper dividers between slices, and didn’t just shove the whole thing in his mouth.
Osamu picked up the contaminated food and tossed it. Items still in their sealed packaging, he washed off and returned to the island.
“Texas Ranger? I’ve been to Texas,” I said. “I know some PRT agents down that way.” I remembered Cassie, a hot kitsune bitch with an attitude and a half. I knew her daughter Grace as well. She owed me for starting a barroom brawl that helped her out while on a mission—a favor I was in no hurry to collect since it would mean another trip to the Lone Star state.
Josh studied me across the island, slowing his gorging. “Names,” he said.
I mentioned a few he should know, “Cassie, Virgil Langley…”
A surprised look flashed across the liger’s leathery face. “Cassie? She
never mentioned you.”
I smiled. “There are times I use fictitious names. Don’t ask why.”
Kat returned, handing Josh a pile of clothing including a pair of canvas shoes. “Here you go.”
Osamu fished a wallet and some keys off the floor by the back door and brought it over. “I believe these are yours as well.”
Josh nodded his thanks, then gave my butler a quick once-over. “Hey, what happened to that sword?”
His face betrayed no emotion. Osamu said, “It went away.”
“Osamu,” I said.
He cast me an inquiring glance. “Yes, Caine-sama?”
“Go give Vivian a call. See how she’s making out.”
“Yes, Caine-sama.” He strode away, stiff with dignity.
Kat stared at me. “You’ve got yet another girl traveling with you?”
I said, “I’m here to pull the preternatural communities together and head off open warfare that could betray us all to the human world. As a dhampyr, Vivian can get me in to see those of her kind.”
Josh nodded, shooting Kat a fast look that spoke volumes. He said, “That tells me what you’re doing here with werecats from L.A. You figured that would give you an in with me as well.”
I shrugged. “It’s nothing I’m trying to hide.”
As Josh dressed, Kat went to the fridge and found a bottle of white wine. She brought it back on a tray with crystal glasses. “Go on into the living room. You boys can do the rest of your talking there while I clean up this mess.”
Josh looked at the white wine and suppressed a shudder.
Kat frowned at him. “I’ll get you a beer.”
He held up three fingers.
“Fine,” she said, “three beers.”
I held up two fingers.
She huffed. “Five beers.”
“Imported?” I asked.
She growled at me. “Don’t push your luck.” She gave Josh the tray and headed back for the fridge. He and I relocated to the living room. Josh put the tray on an end table and took an armchair. I flopped onto the couch, setting my feet on the steamer trunk next to Dani’s butt. She faced the big screen TV, channel surfing once more. Teri and Cleo dropped to either side of me so they had me surrounded.
Josh leaned forward. “So, Caine, what do you want from me, specifically?”
“You’re one of the major players in this town—”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not. I’m not playing games. I’ve let everyone know that if they leave the Cat Clan alone, I won’t break them into small pieces. Otherwise, I’m a live-and-let-live kinda guy.”
“The wolves might disagree. You did kill their Alpha.”
“They messed with my people. They messed with Kat. They needed to learn a lesson.” Kat entered the room, handed me two beers, and moved over to Josh.
I stared at him, hard. “So you’ve got no problem with a new Alpha taking over the Wolf Clan in Sacramento?”
“Long as they don’t push the other weres around. I don’t like bullies.” He reached up and took the beers Kat brought him, opening one as Kat sat on one of the arms of his chair.
I sighed. “I don’t think you’ll be left alone. The wolves want to run the city. They know they can’t if you’re a rallying point for malcontents. Same goes for the dhampyrs. It will cost them dearly, but if they all come for you at once—”
“Then I’ll pick up the phone and make a call to some of my friends. The PRT will sweep in and put down the threat. The cats and I will go underground until the smoke clears.”
I opened my bottle and took a much needed pull. “So you’ve got no interest at all in becoming Master of the City, running the supernatural element?”
He chugged a bottle empty and met my gaze again. “None at all. I start running things, I make a lot more enemies. I make more enemies, Kat and her people become targets, hostages to be used against me. Power is a consuming mistress. I enjoy being retired, looking after a very small piece of the world.” He opened his next bottle, unscrewing the cap.
I considered his words. He seemed sincere in his disinterest, but I thought it best to keep an open mind. It would be better for my mission if he wanted power. He had too much power not to be committed to an agenda of some kind.
Kat caught Cleo’s attention with a wave of fingers. “You girls got a place to stay tonight?”
Cleo looked at me.
I looked at Kat. “We were going to grab some rooms at a hotel just off the highway in Old Sac.”
She shook her head. “No way, you’ll all stay here.”
Josh rumbled, “They will?”
She glowered down at him. “They will.”
I was glad for the invitation. It was an opportunity to keep working on the liger. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind…”
“I mind,” Josh said.
Kat smiled. “Good, it’s all settled.”
Phone in hand, Osamu came in from the front porch and walked over to me. He passed his phone to me. I put it to my ear. “Caine here.”
“It’s Vivian. I need you.”
“Where?”
“A brownstone in The Pocket. I’ll text you the address.” She hung up.
I handed Osamu his phone. “I’ll be going out to meet Vivian. Stay here and make sure nothing happens to anyone.”
“Yes, Caine-sama.”
My phone vibrated. I pulled it out and opened it. Getting directions, I turned the phone screen toward Kat and Josh. “You guys know this place?”
Kat took my phone and checked the address. Her eyes went wide. “You sure you want to go to Greenhaven? The top dhampyr live out on Moonlit Circle.”
“Not the Darth Vader building?” I asked.
Josh said, “Nah, that’s just middle management.”
I took my phone back. “Well, I suppose I can always use the GPS to get there.”
“Don’t bother.” Josh climbed to his feet, looming over us all. “I’ll take you. I want to make sure the dhampyrs know I’m not in their way, as long as they leave my people alone.”
I stood up. “They might not want to see you—without an invitation.”
He grinned, showing a bit of fang, gold eyes smoldering. “That might be interesting.”
ELEVEN
Here’s a choice for you: give me what
I want, or give me what I want.
—Caine Deathwalker
We took Kat’s battered, moss green, VW bug. Unlike my vehicles, hers lacked flames painted on the side. It had a Hug-A-Tree bumper sticker on the back, and a radio tuned to a country station. A singer with a gravelly voice was whining about his ex taking off with his beloved pick-up truck. I resisted the urge to shoot the radio. Later, I promised myself, business first. I donned sunglasses, hoping no one I knew would see me in this junker.
Tall as he was, I didn’t see how Josh managed to squeeze into the front passenger’s seat. We rattled off, shuddering to a stop at every light. I think the vehicle wanted to find a place to die, but somehow, Kat kept it going.
Along 19th Street, I noticed how dead the city looked: no one walking around, clubs and bars open, but no sign of business. We passed more houses modeled in Victorian style, but less sprawling. Such structures vanished as we crossed downtown. Ten minutes later, we entered the pocket community of Greenhaven, a genteel area which could have been a prize-winning model for clean and tidy neighborhoods. Upper middle class homes dominated. If Norman Rockwell had immortalized suburbia, this place would have inspired numerous paintings. The air of innocence and normality gave no clue to the presence of day walkers.
“The house is a couple blocks away,” Kat said.
I leaned forward, gripping the back of her seat. “Okay, stop here. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
“Why not drive up?” Kat said.
I shook my head. “Your car isn’t cool enough. I have my reputation to think of.”
Josh gave a grunty sound of agreement, quickly muffled as Kat glared at him. He got out
to accompany me, and slid the front seat forward so I could escape.
“Fine,” she said, “next time walk all the way!”
Free of her tin can, I pulled out my phone and texted Vivian: Two blocks away, on foot with the liger.
She texted back: I’ll come out to get you.
As Kat’s classic VW lurched away in a snit, Josh and I walked on. A tattoo along my spine burned like hellfire sinking into my flesh, as my Dragon Sight kicked in, letting me see magic. Dark red tendrils of energy snaked along various estates, webbing the fences, lawns, sidewalk and the street. Smaller offshoots, like fine hairs, fanned up to wave in the wind—a magical nervous system capable of sending out an alarm. The growths weren’t visible or material to humans, thickening as we approached the dhampyr stronghold. The predatory hunger and faint blood scent in the air reminded me of vampire magic, but weaker. The quality of restraint shouted dhampyr.
My shield turned the gentle strands aside, not letting them find me. Filaments brushed the liger and deepened to an arterial red, pulsing with sudden interest that drew more of the strands his way. He gave no sign he knew they were there. Had he known, I don’t think he would have cared.
An iron fence separated the sidewalk from the lawn until we reached the open gate, where baby palm trees played sentry at the mouth of a private drive. Josh and I started up the drive. I shut down my Dragon Sight as Vivian stepped out of a two-story Tudor style building with white walls, pale blue painted beams. Above the house, I saw the tops of evergreens and one blue Douglas fir. Parked in front of the house was a fleet of black sedans, mostly Jaguar XJs, but a Tesla model S, and a red Maserati Quattroporte as well.
Vivian walked out on a concrete porch, waiting for us with the stillness a vamp would have shown who’d forgotten to breath. I shut down my Dragon Sight to conserve magic as we made our way to her. She spoke, keeping her voice almost inaudible, “There are thirty high-ranking dhampyr in the house, ten of them female. You’ll want to keep an eye on Mason. He has a lot of influence. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”
Green Flame Assassin (Demon Lord series, book 2) Page 8