Green Flame Assassin (Demon Lord series, book 2)

by Morgan Blayde

  That’s no way to go.

  Josh followed me over to Kat. His stare skimmed her, feeding hungrily. “Kat, you’re all right?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Her crisp voice was cool, untroubled. Fey carnage might be part of her regular day for all the emotion she showed. I wondered how often she left dead birds on the bed back home for Josh.

  He studied the blood-soaked ground and scattered body parts, and looked at me. “Caine, what do you think?”

  I looked at the ground where sand became actual dirt. There were prints an inch and a half deep leading into the woods. “I think I’m standing on the paw print of a five-thousand pound bear.”

  “Damn,” Josh said.

  “Gonna be hard to kill,” Kat said.

  I nodded. “One big-ass bear. Look how far apart the back and front paws are. We’re talking about a beast that’s at least twenty-four feet.” I caught Josh’s gaze. “You ever see anything like this when you were with the PRT?”

  He shook his head no, drawing a deep breath. “I smell fading magic along its trail, cleaning away the animal’s natural scent. The creature has power to burn. Funny, how I never heard of a werebear this big.”

  Squatting, Kat reached out and closed the baby pooka’s wide, shocked eyes. “For no one to know of it until now, the bear must be new to the area, maybe even the planet. Something that big doesn’t hide easy.”

  “Which is exactly why we have so many dead,” I said. “It’s using the river to get around.”

  “Its trail doesn’t return to the river,” Josh pointed out. “That might be a break for us.”

  I saw movement in the trees. The werekitties were helping us poke around. Their bright chatter showed they thought this all some kind of game. “Have your pussycats look for a den. If we find a lair, we can get it while it’s pinned down.” I moved under the canopy of the woods.

  Kat punched a number on her phone’s speed dial. Her voice was slightly brittle, “On it.” I turned, feeling her stare a hole in the back of my head for the calling her people pussycats, not really a respectful term I supposed, not that I cared. Beyond Kat, the female leader of the water fey came up to us, her male companions a few steps behind. They seemed nervous without the safety of the river immediately at hand.

  Ignoring the rest of us, she spoke to Josh, “What are we dealing with here?”

  I took a few more steps into the trees, following the bear tracks. From the corner of my eye, I saw Kat press in close to Joshua, giving silent support, a sign of solidarity. We might be helping the fey, but only a fool ever really trusts them. I turned back, wanting to see how the wereliger would handle things. He met the fey woman’s jewel-bright stare, making sure her attention was on him, not on Kat.

  “Best guess is some abnormal form of werebear that could hold its own with a Kodiak. It’s a magic user as well, unless it’s hunting with the woman it travels with and the magic is hers. These are the same two we ran into in Old Sac on the riverfront. It looks like they’ve been using the river to get around. That may change now that it’s been uncovered. Its trail is headed away from the river now.”

  “What do you want us to do?” the woman asked.

  That she would ask that of a human male surprised me. Something about Josh’s easy-going competence kept politics out of things. The guy would make a great Master of the City if he only wanted the job.

  I kept pulling away, walking deeper into the woods, voices fading with distance. I warmed up my Dragon Sight tattoo. Along my spine, the skin burned like hellfire. I blinked a few times, clamping down on a breath that wanted to hiss past my teeth. The pain backed off, fading, leaving me with the ability to see lingering traces of magic. The paw prints had a phosphorescent green glow. The edges of the light tattered, fraying as I watched. Following the glowing hotspots was easier than reading impressions. This would let me move a lot faster.

  As I slipped past tree trunks, I noticed the glow-prints becoming smaller, but not suddenly weaker. The spacing between tracks became smaller and smaller. I stopped and felt the trail, using my fingers to read a print. I straightened up as Josh and Kat caught up to me, and pointed at the trail ahead. “He turned human as he went through here. We’re not looking for a beast anymore.”

  Joshed looked at the trail. “Still not leaving a scent. If he gets some clothes on, he can hide by blending in with the first people he meets.”

  “We still have to follow the trail,” Kat said. “Who knows, he might run out of magic and we could get a sniff to make a later identification.”

  Eventually, the tracks crossed a bike trail. Soon after, we found a bike with a bent tire and its near-naked owner. Someone had knocked him over, broken his neck, and taken his clothes, leaving only a tee shirt spread over his manhood to leave him some dignity in death. The tee shirt had John Lennon’s face on it and the phrase: GIVE PEACE A CHANCE.

  The trail of magic led off the path to a regular street and stopped abruptly.

  “He got into a vehicle here, I’d guess,” I said. “Maybe a car-jacking. Maybe he parked his own car here, and has gone out looking for a new feeding ground.”

  Josh sighed. “Not much else we’re going to be able to do around here.” He settled a big, heavy arm across Kat’s shoulders. “Better call the girls in, have them pick us up.”

  “Good,” Kat said. “I don’t like us being involved in things like this. Too much death going ‘round.”

  “That’s exactly why you guys need to help end this,” I said. “If this beast is killing pooka, then it’s already killed humans which are easier prey. We just haven’t found what’s left of them yet. And ending the threat sooner is better than later. Next time, fire-girl and bear could show up at your house, wanting to borrow a cup of blood.”

  “Maybe she’ll kill you and just blow town.” Kat said. “That might be best for everyone.”

  I was pissed by her stubbornness, and knew I couldn’t push any more.

  “What’s next?” Josh asked.

  “Lunch,” I said. “Then I’m going back to sleep. I need to give Vivian time to check out Mason and the rest of the dhampyrs, and Osamu could probably use a break from guarding the house.”

  “Food and sleep,” Kat’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Well, you’re motivated.”

  “I want to be fresh for tonight,” I said. I want to go up to the casino and see what Intel their Shaman might have on what we’re hunting.”

  “You can gamble away some of that anger I see hiding behind the deadness of your eyes,” Joshua said.

  “I love gambling,” Kat said. “Count me in.”

  I smiled. “I wouldn’t mind winning a few extra souls.”

  Josh’s easy smile fell off his face. The ex-fed in him surfaced as he glowered at me. “They don’t do that kind of gambling there, Caine, not even in the back rooms.”

  “Yeah, I need a demon place for that.”

  Josh sighed. “You’re not a demon, Caine. What would you even use extra souls for anyway?”

  A passing mother with a baby in a stroller looked at us rather strangely, and hurried on a little faster.

  My brows shot up. “Hey, I’m more demon than most demons, despite being human. And souls come in handy for powering up the really advanced spells.”

  “I don’t think I want to hear anymore.” Kat looked down the street, watching for her girls to come and pick us up. “I need to stop by the house and change clothes. I’ve got blood on my pants and shoes.”

  “It’s only pooka blood,” I said. “You’re lucky it’s purple instead of red. Explaining bloodstains to a passing cop could ruin our whole day. You’ll be happy to know that the blood will wash out easily in salt water.”

  Josh looked at me, speculation in his eyes. “I’m not sure I want to know how you happen to know that.”

  I smiled, seeing a couple cars coming to get us. “Good, a little mystery keeps things interesting.”

  * * *

  The day passed quietly. Lunch was followed
by me and the werekitties finding a bed and engaging in carnal bliss before sleep took us away. I don’t remember my dreams, if I had any. It seemed like I’d just closed my eyes when I was shook awake. The kitties were showering and dressing, and yelling at me to come along as they were planning on clubbing till dawn. I begged off, getting myself together to leave with Josh, Kat, and Osamu.

  It took us close to an hour to get to the Thunder Creek Casino. The entrance was huge. The gold letters above the door, with the yellow neon lights inside of them, stood out. The concrete in front of the building had swirl textures to give shoes a better grip. Square islands of grass and miniature Japanese maples dotted the area. Between the squares, three-foot posts were evenly placed, lighting the way to glass doors with gold trimming.

  We strolled in and I stopped us with an upraised hand, feeling the faint feather-touch of Indian magic on my skin. Brown marble floors matched the walls. The ceiling overhead sported electric chandeliers, hung a good twenty feet above me. They were the source of the magic touch I’d felt. I pointed them out to Josh. “Some of those crystals have been made sensitive to magic. A magical security system.” I took some pictures with my smart-phone and put it away, knowing they were probably watching me through two-way glass somewhere. I hoped it pissed them off.

  There was impatience in Kat’s voice, “Can we move on now?”

  “Soon. Someone’s moving in on us,” I said.

  “How do you know?” she asked.

  Osamu just took my word on it, stepping forward, passing me and stopping as if he might need to throw himself in front of me and take a bullet. The guy really takes his job as my combat butler seriously.

  I caught Kat’s eyes. “You shifters wouldn’t have set off the sensors. Indians do skin-walking all the time. The system here is designed to find other types of magic.” I heard the doors behind us open and smelled faint traces of white sage and tobacco. “I must have set off every alarm in the place just coming in.”

  An Indian chant—a faint echo like ghost whispers in the wind—intertwined with the radio music playing over the sound system. No one else looked at the speakers or mentioned the change. The thronging gamblers kept going about their business, searching for the perfect slot machine—and they were everywhere, flashing, blinking, sirens calling the brave to financial destruction on the rocky shores.

  I knew that security would have come in behind us. I saw two more Indians in dark blue suits approach us out of the crowd. They stopped in front of us. Both men wore earpieces, in touch with their handlers. Their hair was long. They wore gold necklaces with tribal symbols on them. The tall one on the left looked straight at me. “Sir, your kind isn’t welcome here.”

  I could feel the magic coming from the symbols, earth magic. These guys were heavy hitters. They had to be to deal with any stray dragon, witch, or demon that might try to come in and rip off the House.

  “I’m here on a different kind of business than you might expect.” I called up the photos of the dead pookas on my phone, and held it out so the men could see. I then showed him the bear tracks, “I’m looking for this thing.”

  The man studied the photo and then touched his ear, receiving a message. “Follow me, please. My grandfather wants to know more about this.”

  “I’ll be at the poker table,” Kat said. “Come cheer me on when you guys are done.”

  “Okay honey, have fun,” Joshua leaned down to give her a parting peck.

  I caught Osamu’s gaze and murmured. “Keep close to her.”

  He nodded and went along in her wake, asking no questions of me.

  Josh’s eyes burned with curiosity.

  I explained, “She’s been investigating with us. If someone wants to know what we’ve been doing, what we know, they could try and snatch her. In my kinda work, a little paranoia is healthy.”

  NINETEEN

  “There are easier ways to get a

  drink than stealing a bottle.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  With that out of the way, Josh and I followed the security detail through a side door close to the front counter. We strolled down an extra-wide hallway with golden-taupe carpeting and a teal green runner striping the center. Frosted glass shells wrapped lights mounted on the wall.

  We took a flight of stairs upward. The air along the sidewall seemed oddly heavy.

  I gritted my teeth, warming my Dragon Sight tattoo. Pain, a chainsaw in the guts, came and went. The magic I kindled let me see a dull greenish brown glow, earth magic. Flat ribbons of it peeled our way, stretching to stay with us as we climbed. Hesitant, curious, the ribbons licked our auras, not quite touching flesh. Someone was checking us out. Had there been an evil intent, my protective shield would have snapped on.

  I took a moment to grab two fronds of earth magic, and tie them together in a nice Christmas bow.

  Our escorts looked at me funny, probably wondering what the hell I was doing with the little pantomime act. I didn’t explain, moving on. They led us to double doors, each with a soaring eagle carved in, their claws gripping lightning bolts. The artist had designed the eagles so shimmers of light were suggested around them.

  No, not eagles—these would be much bigger. They’re thunderbirds, a little more realistic than you normally see in Indian jewelry.

  The doors were opened. I saw a thin haze in the air. I drew a deep breath. They’d been burning white sage. The security detail, except for one man, stayed in the hall. Their leader used a gliding stride to lead us into a massive office full of Native American decorations, well, that’s what people would think if they didn’t have Dragon Sight. Nearly everything in the room resonated with echoes of shamanic magic.

  The man behind the solid oak desk was a close copy to the old shaman I’d met at the dhampyr building downtown: same piercing eyes and iron gray hair tied back from a weathered, wrinkled face, but this version didn’t have a walking stick handy. Behind his desk, a wall of one-way glass let us look out over part of the crowded casino, machines flashing in frenzy. Fortunately, sound proofing kept the noise out. The old guy laid a Louis L’Amour western face down on his desk, and pushed to his feet.

  “This way.” He walked over to a red leather couch with matching chairs. He took a chair, gesturing at the rest of the seating. “Please sit.”

  Joshua flopped on the couch and locked his hands behind his head. I took the chair across from the old guy. The guard moved to a position behind the old guy’s chair where he could watch us. The wooden coffee table between the old man and me had a small stand that held a ghost flute on it. From the stain on the wood, I could tell the instrument was used for more than playing music. It doubled as a peace pipe. I smelled tobacco, pure, a very high grade.

  The old man said, “My name is Thomas Darkcloud.” He jerked a thumb at the man standing behind him. “This is my son Joseph. I believe you already met my brother, the tribe shaman, earlier tonight.”

  I nodded. “I’m Caine Deathwalker. My friend here is Joshua Kent.”

  “He is well known in these parts. So tell me what the were-liger and dragon-mage want here?”

  I wasn’t surprised he knew our natures; we’d been tasted by the earth magic on the way here. To answer his question, I pulled out my phone and pulled up the pictures of the murdered pooka and the bear tracks. “The water spirits are angry. Seems a werebear’s running amok.”

  Thomas leaned forward, studied the picture on my phone, and reached for the peace pipe and a tin of tobacco. He filled the hole at the front edge of the flute’s fetish, a wooden carving of a duck head, and handed the instrument to me.

  Anything could have been in the tobacco, but my shield didn’t even flicker with interest. I used a spark of Dragon Flame off the tip of my finger to light the tobacco.

  Joseph watched carefully as I took a draw of smoke into my lungs through the tapered mouthpiece. I offered Josh the flute.

  He waved it away. “Your powwow, not mine.”

  I handed the smoking flute back
to Thomas.

  He took a long draw and exhaled smoke up into the air, letting it hang above us. “When you came to town, the spirits told my brother about you. They especially like you.”

  It’s hard to believe anything likes me.

  “Me? Not so much.” He took another draw. “I’ve heard trouble follows you like a moonstruck calf.”

  “Then you should answer my questions just to get rid of me.”

  He grunted. “Let me see your phone again.”

  I handed him my phone in exchange for the pipe. The tobacco was starting to smell sweet. I stared at the soft, curling smoke. I sniffed. “Strawberry flavoring. That’s new.”

  “I like to straddle many worlds.” Joseph helped his father operate the phone, accessing the pictures. He looked intently at each photo, taking his time. The photos of the slaughtered pooka didn’t seem to bother him. He took a lot more time with the bear tracks.

  “Can you confirm if it’s a werebear or a skin-walker?” I asked. If a skin-walker, then the beast might be one of his own people. I took a drag on the flute and set it on the stand, in the middle of the coffee table. “And why would it help this woman?”

  “It’s not helping her—it’s part of her. You attack her, you attack it. It will fight back like any creature. You should ask instead who the lady is and how she has bonded to such a primal spirit.”

  “A fey shifter?” Josh suggested. “Maybe the bear is not of our world at all.”

  “It is part of her, but not her,” Thomas said. “Its size might be caused by her power, a spirit that feeds on her life, mourning the loss of its own.”

  “A ghost bear? That might explain the green fire,” I said.

  Thomas grinned at me. “Ask her when she catches you. I think we’re done here.”