Green Flame Assassin (Demon Lord series, book 2)

by Morgan Blayde

  Regular vamps, should be a lot easier to kill than Roma.

  The one on my right grinned, flashing fangs. He didn’t care if I knew what he was.

  The other vamp kept a poker face in place. He lifted a hand, one finger out, his thumb cocked back like the trigger on a gun. His hand jerked as he pantomimed shooting a hole in my head by way of a friendly greeting.

  Note to self; stick a grenade up that guy’s ass.

  I turned around, depending on my shield to save me if they made a sudden move. Vivian was a dozen steps ahead of me. I hurried and caught up to her by the time she reached the oddly darkened corner. Vamps were known to roll minds, to mesmerize, but this was almost on par with the glamours of the fey. It made me wonder if there was one nearby that might be working with him.

  Or he’s a lot more dangerous than I’ve given him credit for.

  The shadows collapsed in on themselves, not so much revealing Roma as giving the impression that he had been the darkness and had compressed himself into human form. An intimidating illusion, but I kept a carefree smile on my face like this was nothing special.

  He sat on the edge of a table that had appeared as miraculously as he had, and wore a two-thousand dollar suit of midnight blue, starched white shirt, and Italian loafers. A heavy, 18 carats gold ring flashed on his right hand. There was an old gold coin set in the face of the ring. For a second, my vision shifted into high gear. The ring appeared to leap closer and expand so I could see it better. The image of the goddess Pax—peace—was stamped onto the coin. She bore olive branches in one hand and a scepter in the other.

  My vision snapped back to normal, and I gathered an impression of Roma himself. He had a deep chest and a boxy build, standing five-foot ten. His nose was aquiline, dominating a leathery, seamed face. His lips were generous, his eyes—which I made a point to only see peripherally—were pits of black. Artfully styled, black on white, saw-like bangs draped a high forehead. His attention seemed locked entirely on Vivian, but I knew this wasn’t true. He’d surely taken my measure as I’d taken his.

  His voice was all hearty warmth, “Princess! So good to see you. You’re looking lethal as always.” He pushed off the table, taking his weight on his feet as he opened his arms wide for a hug. He flashed fangs smiling. “Come give Papa a kiss.”

  Vivian slid her hands to her hips, lodging her thumbs in her belt loops. “I’ve told you I want you to stay out of my life. Is that so hard to understand?”

  “Blood calls to blood.” His tone deepened, softening. “I heard you were hurt. Bad. I just wanted to see, to know…” His eyes slid to me. Though I avoided direct contact, the force of his stare was like slamming into a brick wall. I’d felt the power of a master-level vamp before, Gloria for instance. This was different. Another kind of power was work. I warmed up my Dragon Sight tat, clenching my teeth, knotting my jaw against a thousand hot needles skewering my flesh. The sensation ghosted away, and I stared past Roma, into a whirl of shadows that resisted my magical vision.

  “There’s another person here,” I warned Vivian.

  “Is there?” Her musing question was thrown at her father.

  He turned his attention back to her. “Your boyfriend is perceptive?”

  “He’s—”

  I interrupted her answer, “He’s got a contact among the dhampyr. He’s working more than one side.”

  Roma shrugged. “That’s what vampires do.”

  Vivian shot me a disbelieving glance. “That makes no sense. Why would any dhampyr want the vamps horning into this territory?”

  “Good question,” I said.

  Roma’s stare returned to batter me. “What else do you know?”

  “The same hidden power I sensed at the dhampyr mansion, the same veil I couldn’t pierce, is right here.” I pointed at the table behind Roma. “And since I don’t believe in coincidence, or trying to out drink a leprechaun, I’m fairly sure the dhampyr traitor is using the dream stone to bend reality out of the way.” I powered up my Dragon Voice tat, and felt my head getting ripped off and put back again none too gently. I wasn’t at all sure this next trick would work, but I had to try. My voice rolled out like a bomb blast, a magical demand. “Come out now, before I make you eat that stone!”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “I wish I’d seen the one that got away.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  Staggering back a step at my command, Roma bumped the wooden table behind him, blindly gripping its edge to steady himself. My peripheral vision caught an eruption of red light from his eyes. They were no longer burnt out cinders. Next to me, at the edge of sight, Vivian collapsed to her knees, gasping as shockwaves passed. My attention primarily centered on the emptiness beyond Roma and the table.

  Someone was magically hiding back on that corner of the rooftop. I’d hoped to drag that presence outside their protective illusion. That hadn’t happened, but I saw an empty chair fall over, and heard the sound of stumbling feet, of someone catching themselves against the corner bricks. I tried to use my sense of smell, but all I got was vampire from Roma.

  I glanced at Vivian as she climbed to her feet. “See,” I told her, “I was right.”

  She stared back at the White Lotus Steakhouse behind me. “Caine, you screwed the pooch.”

  “What?” I shifted hips and turned my head to see what she was talking about. The magical net I’d thrown hadn’t pulled its target into view, but the command had entangled some little fish. The two vampires from atop the doorway had leaped down and were stiffly reeling my way like resentful mutts dragged on leashes. Behind them, several human servers and a small crowd of interrupted diners were also lurching this way. The Dragon Voice tattoo had done its job too well.

  I qualified my next statement and used a toned-down version of the Voice, “Humans, go back inside, pay your bills, and get out.”

  The crowd lost impetus, swayed, and emerged from their entranced state. Burbling confused sounds, they turned and left.

  The two vamp soldiers came on until they were in front of me, then steadied as motor-control returned. They seemed to know I was the one who’d literally jerked them around. About to lunge, their bodies compressed, but they took a moment to hiss, and bare fangs in unimpressive wrath.

  What pussies. A real warrior never hesitates when the time to strike has come, nor does he give warning.

  Vivian said, “Father, control your servants, or I will.”

  “Down. I will tell you when and whom to bite,” Roma said.

  And that explained why they were pretty much useless; he didn’t trust them to act on their own, so they weren’t used to it. However they did have the virtue of obedience. The soldiers stayed tense, but came no closer, straightening into non-threatening postures, their clawed hands shoved into coat pockets like they’d practiced the synchronized move.

  Roma waved them off. “Go back to your stations.”

  Their hands came out of their pockets. The vamps offered half a bow, and stalked away.

  I turned back toward Roma, making sure to keep my eyes averted from his. “You do know vampires are not welcome in this town? When the dhampyr discover your presence, they’re going to be hell-bent on tracking you down and staking you as a general example to anyone interested in their territory.”

  He casually adjusted the line of his jacket and tie. “I’m not overly concerned. I believe the Spirit Bear running amok has bought me time to accomplish my goals. I have you to thank for that, do I not?” He smiled.

  “You want to tell me what it is you want,” I asked, “besides spending quality time with Vivian?”

  I’m tired of this bullshit diplomacy. It’s so much more fun when I can kill all of life’s little irritations.

  Roma’s stare shot to Vivian. Whatever emotions burned in his gaze missed me since I couldn’t risk looking that closely, but his voice roughened, as if there were some slight remnant of a soul inside him. “A city, by rights, belongs only to those who can take and keep it. It is the ob
ligation of the strong to do just that, for the public good.”

  Her voice shrilled, “So we need monsters ruling over us for our own good?”

  “It is the lesson of ancient Rome,” Roma said. “Pax Romana. Stability and prosperity only come through crushing strength. This truth is embraced by your country’s federal tyranny which consistently rules against the will of its predominately conservative people.”

  “So might makes right?” Vivian said. “Because you could, you had an obligation to rape my mother and bring me into this world?”

  Roma winced at her words. “I loved your mother and she loved me. When my enemies struck her down, it was as if my heart were ripped out by the roots and locked in a deep, cold abyss. I retreated from the world until I found the strength to bury the pain, concealing such weakness.”

  She scowled. “Yeah, and inconvenient little me was left to be raised by the Slayers. You never tried to be part of my life, to help me understand the hunger and darkness that raged inside. All I am, I forged without you. We are enemies.”

  He sat back on the table, swinging one foot in a small circle, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “And yet you’ve never tried to hunt me down. Even now, you could drag out a dozen weapons hidden on your person and go for my unbeating heart, but you don’t.”

  “Where you’re concerned,” Vivian said, “I admit I’m not entirely rational.”

  “See,” he smiled, “that gives us common ground. Give it another fifty or sixty years, and you might actually consider forgiving me.”

  She snorted softly. “When Hell sells ice cream.”

  Roma laughed at that.

  It seemed like we’d wandered too off track. Time to get what Intel I can. I butted in, “Roma, what do you know about the dream stone?”

  His smile died. “Why would I care about something I cannot use? To employ the fey relic, one must have a soul that can dream. One must have a soul. Regretfully, I cannot help you.”

  I know when I’m being lied to. With master vampires, that’s all the time. Sure, vamps can’t use the dream stone—directly—but they can control others.

  A thrall of some sort or a dhampyr can use the stone for Roma. That’s probably what’s going on here. Time to bail; I’ve got all I’m going to.

  I slanted Vivian a meaningful glance, “Well, this has almost been fun, but we’ve gotta go.”

  “So soon?” Though his humanity had been lost centuries ago, Roma sounded genuinely sad. He was good at keeping the monster he was from peeking out his eyes.

  I took a step back, then another, wanting distance before I turned my back on him. Vivian followed. Another step and we pivoted, heading for the sliding glass doors we’d come through.

  And there was Roma, as if he’d always been waiting behind us.

  Vivian and I stopped awkwardly. I reached for my demon sword, bringing it to me with a thought. On reflex, she’d drawn both an electric stun baton and a combat knife.

  But Roma held still, offering her a business card. “If you need anything from me, call. If I am down for the day, my people will act in my stead.”

  She used the hand holding her knife to take the card from him. I knew she didn’t want it. I also knew she took it for me. We’d probably need to pin Roma down before all this was over.

  He turned toward me, eyeing the sword in my hand. One of his eyebrows rose. “A Muramasa. Impressive, if you can use it without losing your soul.”

  “Not a Muramasa, the Muramasa, his last and greatest.” I kept my focus on Roma’s chin. “As for using it, I am the Red Moon Demon.”

  “I’m glad you have that,” Roma said. “You take good care of my little Princess. Something happens to her, I’ll be highly disappointed.”

  Vivian rolled her eyes, and stomped off in her stiletto heels. I followed. When several yards separated me from Roma, I flicked my wrist, releasing the sword. It ghosted away, returning to my armory back in Malibu. Vivian waited for me inside the main restaurant. The chefs were cleaning up their stations. The waitresses were gone with the patrons, having followed my order to get out. The manager was interrogating the hapless hostess, wanting to know what happened to the rest of the staff.

  By the elevator, Josh and Kat studied the bubbling water tanks. Inside, the lobsters had rubber-bands on claws, bobbing their stalk-eyes with grave concern, and possibly fear for heir lives. From the feral lust on Kat’s face, that fear was warranted. She looked ready to scoop out a couple crustaceans and eat them raw. Josh pulled a couple large bills from his wallet and waved the money in the air.

  His spider-sense tingling, the manager cut off mid-tirade, heading for the couple. Vivian and I got there about the same time.

  Josh held out the cash with one hand, pointing at a tank with the other. “I need some of these to go.”

  “Alive?” the manager asked.

  “Better flavor that way,” Kat said.

  The manager pasted on a strained smile and plucked the bills from Josh’s hand. “I’ll find you a bucket or something.” He scurried off.

  Josh turned to me. “I smell vamps.”

  “Three,” I said, “outside. One’s Vivian’s … uh, sperm donor.”

  “We’re letting them go?” Josh asked.

  I knew the vamps above the sliding door could hear us. I spoke for their benefit, but shook my head no. “Sure, I’m a live and let live guy. Some of my best friends are blood-sucking fiends.”

  “Gloria is not a fiend,” Vivian said.

  I looked at her. “A surprising thing for a Slayer to say.”

  Vivian shrugged. “She once did Granddad and me a favor, so we’d owe the bitch.”

  “I’d like to hear that story sometime, but the night is still young, and we have things to do.”

  “What things,” Vivian asked.

  The manager returned with a big, black plastic bucket. He scooped out four of the lobsters and dumped them in, handing the bucket to a gleeful Kat.

  I nodded toward the elevator. “Not here.”

  Josh hit the call button. Once the doors opened, we crowded on. The doors closed and we began to descend. I lunged around the car like a crazy blind man, feeling everywhere. “It’s just us,” I said.

  “Who else would it be?” Kat asked.

  “There was an unseen presence on the roof, someone magically concealing their presence. You guys are going home. I’m going to wait in the lobby and tail Roma’s party when they leave.”

  “They’ll see you,” Vivian said. “And if you’re on foot, when they jump in a car?”

  “I’ll jack whatever I need,” I said. “As for being seen, or sensed, I’ve got a plan that may even pierce the illusion of our unseen traitor.” My money was on Mason.

  “Better be a hell of a plan,” Josh said. “But I understand. All of us following them in the limo would hardly be low profile.”

  The doors opened. We stepped into the lobby and I sent everyone off. Vivian went last, lingering to touch the side of my face with her hand. “Be careful,” she said, “or I’ll kick your head up your ass.”

  The elevator doors closed and the car started up. Someone else was coming down.

  Alone for the moment, I contemplated my next move. There was a risk—and there would be a hell of a drain on my life force—but I thought I could combine my Demon Wings and my Dragon Sight tats to cloak my presence and boost my power to pierce the dream stone’s distortion zone. Even if I lost the vamps, there was a good chance I’d make a visual ID on the unseen presence. That would be a big step forward.

  I warmed up the tats, hoping dragon magic and demon magic would play nice. Pain like the end of the world doubled me over as my muscles burned and cramped, wringing me out. The pain passed and I straightened as the elevator arrived.

  And no one came out.

  Wait, I see something. A blurry patch of air moved past. I lurched along, hurrying to catch up as misty details began to fill in. Excitement mounted as I realized I was seeing a very nice female
shape from behind.

  Definitely not Mason. If I can just get closer, I think I can make her out.

  Steps sounded behind me and I realized there had been someone else on the elevator. Someone tackled me to the tiles.

  The woman burst out the door and vanished.

  Dammit.

  I slammed an elbow back and hit someone in the face.

  Next thing I knew, I was being picked up bodily and tossed into a wall.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “A meeting of minds doesn’t satisfying

  as much as the pummeling of fists.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  “Get up, boy,” the familiar voice lashed at me. “I want to see what you’re made of.”

  Roma? Well, who else did I think it was?

  My back hurt, but pain was an old friend. I played at being hurt worse than I was, trying to create an advantage. In front of me, the green and white tiles were littered with frosted glass from a wall-sconce light that I think I’d shattered. Groaning, I levered myself to my knees and pushed to my feet. I stared across the lobby, but saw no master vampire.

  Then my attention caught a misty distortion in the air—a man-shaped distortion. I put a hand against the wall, as if I needed to steady myself, using the time to drop my Demon Wings magic since it was clearly not doing its job against the power of the dream stone, which was rapidly getting further away. I released my Dragon Sight too since I didn’t figure it would help much here.

  In their place, I activated the Vampire Speed tats on my legs. There was no sensation of pain. The high cost of the metabolism boost would be paid for in an hour with crippling cramps, utter exhaustion, and complete vulnerability. I’d need to be some place safe by then. The clock’s running.

  Roma faded into view, clear distortion becoming pale silver, becoming a deepening blue, until he stood there in his two thousand dollar midnight blue suit, the coat unbuttoned. A Roman short sword was strapped around his waist. I think it had always been there, obscured by the stone’s dream of emptiness. His slightly mussed hair matched the dark pits of his eyes. Before, his eyes had exerted an annoying gravity, trying to catch my gaze. That force was absent now. Maybe taking on vampire speed had given me a little more resistance. Well, I’m not going to complain about unexpected bonuses.