Green Flame Assassin (Demon Lord series, book 2)

by Morgan Blayde

  I stared, enflamed with the desire to lick the cut and make it better.

  She saw my stare. Her pale faced flushed with rosy warmth. She scowled. “Oh, grow up! What is it with men and tits?”

  “If you have to ask,” I said, “you’ll never understand.”

  I turned to face the upper landing as a dhampyr soldier fell into view there. He lay still, his face clawed and torn away. A deep base growl vibrated the air. I called up the stairs, “Josh, it’s us. We’re coming up.”

  “Better hurry,” Vivian said, “otherwise, I don’t think there will much left to do.ify"

  I ran up the stairs with Vivian beside me. “This whole thing has been way too easy.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “We’ve only seen soldiers.”

  I leaped over the corpse on the landing and headed into the upper hallway. There was no sign of the liger, though there were pieces of dead dhampyr soldiers everywhere. One body looked decapitated though it wasn’t. The head had been rammed entirely through a wall. Further on, I passed a whole dhampyr who was folded back on himself as if someone had broken his spine across a knee. A faint groan welled from his parted lips.

  Not quite dead. I fixed that by firing an explosive round between his eyes and another into his heart.

  On a hunch, I headed for the boardroom. “With their numbers dwindling, the higher-ups should have put in an appearance to help out, or we should have seen them running away.”

  Vivian grunted agreement as we slowed to enter the meeting room. The liger was there, looking pissed. He had massive paws on the chests of two of the dhampyr. One of them was a lady in a fine lacy black gown, a blonde with a nice rack. It would be a pity if we had to kill her. The other dhampyr was young man in his late teens. He wore tan slacks and a black tee. His hair was slicked back with gel and he had pissed his pants. The liger’s lips wrinkled back from fangs. He looked like he was about to bite the kid’s head off.

  I had the feeling that the kid was a new recruit to the dhampyr family. He hadn’t acquired the usual muscle-bound look of the rest of the soldiers, and was more likely a plaything for some of the dhampyr women.

  “Please,” he whimpered, “I don’t know anything. I can’t help you.”

  Vivian walked up beside the liger and leaned over the kid. She grabbed his tee shirt with one hand, turning her face to Josh. “I got him.”

  The liger grunted and let go, turning his low rumble up to high, devoting his full attention to the woman. She just held very still, trying not to breathe hard, making a point not to give Josh eye-contact. Her body language was totally submissive, but I thought it a role she was playing. Brielle would not have left her here, in charge of the dhampyr forces, if she were not a lot more than she seemed—or maybe an enemy she was getting out from underfoot. If that were true, we might be able to turn her to our side.

  Vivian pulled Boy-toy up off the table. His eyes kept sliding to her torn shirt and the unfettered boob. Vivian’s face swam in close to his, her eyes ablaze with reddish-pink fire. She used a sultry tone to ask him a question, “If you can’t help us, why should we keep you alive?”

  He looked away, struggling to find an answer.

  “Look at me,” Vivian said.

  His face came back to hers, but his gaze dropped—to her bare tit.

  She used superhuman speed to bitch slap him a dozen times.

  This gave him an immense erection.

  “He’s been well trained,” I walked past them. “He likes it when you hurt him. Pain isn’t going to work.” I rounded the liger and sat on the edge of the table. I studied the woman.

  Her stare sought me out. “You’re the Red Moon Demon.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Call off your beast. I’ll tell you what I can.”

  “That’s nice of you,” I holstered my guns and drew my Seal knife, using it to reflect light into her eyes in a hypnotic pattern. “But I kinda wanted to torture you first. It’s a good way to make sure the information I get is accurate.”

  She closed her eyes and swallowed heavily. With my enhanced senses, I smelled the acrid scent of her fear. She opened her eyes. They were dark and wide with terror. “Shifters can smell a lie. Your beast will know if I lie.”

  I tested the edge of my knife with a thumb, making sure not to cut myself because that wouldn’t have been manly. “Why isn’t Brielle here?”

  “She’s gone over to it, leaving her kind to be killed by you.”

  “It?” I said.

  “The vamp.”

  Vivian’s gaze shot over to the woman. “My father?”

  The woman nodded. “With the dhampyr gone, the vamps can move in. The master vampire can take over the city.”

  My Dragon Sight had already informed me that the “hidden power” I once felt in this room was gone. Brielle had not only jumped shipped, she’d taken the dream stone with her. She’d probably given it to Vivian’s dad. Though he lacked a soul, and couldn’t use the dream stone, he’d want to keep it. Possessing the fey relic meant that at least it couldn’t be used against him. It also explained why he’d lower himself to accept a dhampyr bride. Under his control, she could use the stone as a weapon on his behalf.

  There was no way I could let him keep the stone. Besides needing it to fulfill a contract, a master vamp with fey power, this close to L.A., was a threat we could never condone. Gloria would come totally unglued. Old Man would wring my neck for letting it happen. He was already pissed I’d let all the wolves in Sacramento get killed.

  I stared hard at the dhampyr. “If I let you to go, what are you going to do?”

  Her eyes shed a little of her fear. “What do you want me to do?”

  I smiled at her. “Good answer.” I slid off the table and put my knife away. “Vivian, Josh, take the kid out front. The dhampyr princess and I’ll be along in a minute.”

  They dragged Romeo away. I waited until they were down the hallway. I wanted my prisoner to make a call for me to Brielle, and I didn’t want accidental sounds and comments to be overheard over the phone. A dhampyr or vampire can easily hear sounds over a call that a human would miss. I wanted Brielle to think she was being called by a lone survivor.

  I offered a hand and pulled my prisoner up to a sitting position. “What’s your name?”

  Her voice was soft and smooth as silk sheets, “Mariah.”

  I nodded. “It’s going to take time to fix things here, so I want you to blow town for a while, but first, you’re going to make a call for me to Brielle.”

  She arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

  I outlined the conversation I wanted her to have.

  She stared. “You think that’s really going to work?”

  I shrugged. “She might be suspicious, but she has a Master vampire in her pants … uh, pocket … and the dream stone too. Her plan to wipe out her own clan has been a wild success. Frankly, I can’t see where she wouldn’t be careless and overconfident. I’m counting on it.”

  She produced a phone, opening it. “All right, but after this, we’re square?”

  I smiled. “Sure.”

  As I stepped back, she speed dialed a number. My enhanced hearing let me hear the rings at the other end clearly. On the second ring, Brielle answered. “Mariah, so good of you to call. How is every little thing?”

  She packed her voice with desperation. “My God, we got him at last, but I’m all that’s left.” Mariah managed a very realistic sob, taking a pause.

  “Are you sure?” Brielle asked.

  “Well, there’s Brent, useless little prick. All he’s good for is warming a bed. Anyway, I’m blowing town. Might not ever come back. And I’m taking him with me.”

  “I only loaned him to you,” Brielle said. “I want him back.”

  “After what I’ve been through I deserve—”

  “Drop him off before you go,” Brielle said.

  “I don’t have time for this. I’ve gotta blow town before the L.A. council sends someone
to follow up on Caine. They’ll be asking questions I’d rather not answer.”

  “Mariah…” the word was drawn out, a vibrant threat. “What’s mine is mine.”

  “Damn it all.” Mariah vented a very realistic sigh. “Fine. Where are you?”

  As it came over the phone, I made a mental note of the address, a warehouse over on 14th Street, downtown Sacramento.

  Brielle ended with, “Don’t keep me waiting.”

  Mariah put her phone away and looked at me. “I take it you and Brent are going to keep that appointment.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Do me a favor?” Mariah asked.

  “Do you?”

  “A favor,” she repeated.

  I shrugged. “Sure. What?”

  “When you’re kicking her up-tight, candy ass, give her a punch in the throat for me.”

  “Love to. Now do me a favor?”

  “What’s that?”

  I couldn’t take the chance that she might get greedy, have a change of heart, and sell me out to Brielle. I warmed up my Dragon Voice tat, smiling through the sensation of all my skin being instantly sand-blasted away.

  “For the next four hours, I want you to sleep.” My voice thundered, bouncing off the walls of the room, wrapping around Mariah like an unseen fist. Her eyelids fluttered and closed. She collapsed on the floor. Her firm, bubble butt was propped higher than the rest of her, a delightful invitation. But there was no time. Business called. With a sigh of regret, I left the room.

  THIRTY-THREE

  “Never give dreams free rein while cliffs are around.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  The sun was down, but a bright band of burgundy colored the western horizon, serving as a headstone. Higher up, the sky dimmed to a dusky pastel blue, a backdrop to darker blue clumps of cloud. Twilight was still congealing. No stars were out yet, but it was late enough for vampires to stir awake.

  Our vehicles were side-by-side in the parking lot of an auto parts store. I’d stocked up on various fluids for the Mustang. Sitting on the hood, Vivian spoke into her phone, “I really need to see you.”

  “What do you mean, why? I’m your daughter, aren’t I?” She looked me in the eye as she lied to her father, “I’m not up to anything, you asshole. I just thought, well, I was thinking of Mom, and what she’d say about all this anger between us.”

  She paused, listening.

  “Fine, it’s all my anger. You’re the frickin’ soul of longsuffering benevolence.” She gave her phone the finger and continued, “It’s just that Caine and I’ll be leaving town soon and—”

  She paused again, listening.

  I could have boosted my hearing and gotten both sides of the conversation, but this was unexpectedly more entertaining.

  Her eyes widened. “What? Too sudden a turn around? Suspicious?”

  Roma wasn’t buying the act. We needed to sell it harder. We needed to find him because Brielle was with him, and she had the dream stone I needed to fulfill my mission. I pantomimed, pretending to deal out invisible cards. I pulled a card from my invisible hand and played it, slapping it down on an imaginary table. I then pointed at Kat in the VW.

  Her eyebrows went up, and she stared bloody murder when I used both hands to show an extended—pregnant—belly on myself, then pointed at Vivian’s stomach.

  Josh and Osamu just looked confused. Leaning on the outside of the bug, arms crossed under her breast, Kimberley scrunched her forehead, hopelessly lost—but looking smokin’ hot in a cropped tee and black denim jean shorts. Her eyes her mysterious secrets, purple crystal pools where light and shadow mixed. She wore silver sandals that looked like some fey cobbler had made them.

  Vivian got it, her face lighting up with inspiration. She sighed heavily into the phone. “Damn it, I didn’t want to tell you about the baby this way. You’re going to be a grandfather.” A slow smile appeared on her face as she listened to Roma’s response. She shook her head no. “Married?”

  I shuddered at the suggestion.

  Vivian looked at me, a world of hurt welling in her eyes. She pouted dramatically. “No, he says people don’t do that kind of thing anymore. He says—”

  She pulled the phone away from her pointy little ear as Roma vented disapproval quite loudly. Master vampires were hidebound and traditional. Shaped by earlier centuries, they abhorred most of the changes in the world since they were first turned into creatures of the night. Right about now, I knew he was planning a shotgun wedding for me. His pride would not tolerate his grandchild being born a bastard.

  Vivian put the phone back to her ear. “What? You want to talk to him.”

  I said, “Hell no,” loud enough for him to hear over the phone. “Let’s just hit the airport and get out of this stupid town. It’s not worth saving anyway.”

  Vivian listened some more. “Yeah, I know where that it. Okay, I’ll try, but Caine can be so difficult.” She cranked her voice louder, letting exasperation creep in, “I said I’d try. Huh? No, I’m not going to say that. I still have issues with you, remember?” She gasped. “Don’t you dare bring mother into this! I don’t care if she is looking down from heaven, I’m not going to—” Vivian rolled her eyes to heaven as if praying for strength. She dropped her voice to a near whisper, “Fine, goodbye, Daddy.”

  She killed the connection, put her phone away, and said, “Manipulative prick.”

  Kimberley nodded in commiseration. “Yeah, my boss can be that way too.”

  I mentally filed away her reference to the leader of the Dream Court fey, and got behind the wheel of my new Mustang. Kimberley wandered back to the VW. I’d have to get a backseat for the Mustang before more than one person rode with me, comfortably that is.

  Vivian slid off the hood, and came around to the passenger’s side. Opening the car door, she slid in next to me and rattled off an address. The door slammed shut. The handle to the door’s window fell into the floorboard.

  Gonna have to fix that.

  And we were off, the VW chattering along in our wake.

  * * *

  The warm glow above the expired sun was gone. The sky was blue on blue, dark on light. A few pin-pricks of silver were out, the first stars of the night. We found parking right outside the nightclub. The building was painted a dark red, like shadowed blood. The roof was covered in Mexican clay tile, also red. A big, serpent-limbed oak stood beside the structure. Over the entrance was a flame-shaped sign, more red. Pink neon letters glowed, spelling out: CLUB INFERNO. On the sign above the name was a slanted bottle spilling out flames that shaped an arrow, pointing at the front door—an invitation to hell.

  My kind of place.

  We gathered on the sidewalk, locking up the vehicles. I spotted a street person in a ratty coat and dirty jeans. He sat with his back against the building. A shopping cart was near him. It contained several stuffed trash bags. I said, “Wait here,” and went over to him.

  He looked up at me with little interest.

  I flashed a ten and held it out.

  He grabbed it quickly.

  I pointed at our vehicles. “Keep an eye on our rides. I don’t want anyone messing with them. If I’m happy when I come out, I’ll have more cash for you.”

  His large lips pressed together with purpose. A look of steely determination flared in his eyes. “I’m on it, man. Your rides will be fine.”

  “I hope so.” I smiled and walked back to my friends.

  Vivian said, “You actually gave money to help someone. Has hell frozen over?”

  I took her arm and steered her toward the club entrance. “Let’s go in and find out.”

  Inside, the floor was black. The bar was red as was the red carpeted stage, currently empty of performers. Red tables and chairs surrounded a dance floor. It was empty too. The club was open, but the crowds had yet to arrive. A place like this wasn’t going to start jumping for a few more hours. My friends went and staked out a table near the stage. I went to the bar, nodding to the blonde,
frizzy-haired bartender casually clad in faded jeans and a pink tee. She smiled warmly. “What can I get you?”

  I made an automatic evaluation: bust size 34C, and smiled back. A pitcher of margaritas for my friends, and I’ll have an Inferno. Make it a double.”

  “It’s your stomach,” she said.

  I watched her mix sugar syrup with gold absinthe in a glass with crushed ice. She dropped in a wedge of lime, and garnished the top with a couple of mint leaves. She slid it to me on a napkin. I took the drink and laid a fifty down. “Run a tab,” I said, “and let me know when you need more.”

  Her smile got bigger. “Sure thing, sugar. I’ll have the rest of your drinks right out.”

  I nodded, drifted to our table, and settled in a seat. Throwing my drink back, I let it burn pleasantly down my throat, emptying the glass. Chewing ice, I listened to Kat and Vivian carry on about baby booties, the blues band that was supposed to play here at 9:00, and the difficulty of finding a good bra. Kat mentioned the house with the tunnel entrance in the basement, bringing Josh up to speed. “With financing, we ought to be able to afford it, don’t you think?”

  Josh stared at her. “We don’t need financing. It’s for the clan. Everybody can kick a little into the pot. Some of your toms need to move out from their mom and dad’s anyway.”

  “People are hurting from the economy.”

  “Hurting from the “Frankenstein monster” of a liberal president running amok,” I said.

  Kat glowered at me.

  I lifted eyebrows. “Did I say that out loud?”

  “I voted for that monster,” Kat said. “Twice.”

  I sighed and laid a sympathetic hand on Josh forearm. “I hope there are compensations.”

  Josh shot me that cat-eating-the-canary look that means the sex is really good. “She’s incredibly limber.”

  Kat shifted her blazing glance to him