The Junkyard Druid Box Set 2

by M. D. Massey

  “Druid.”

  “Sophia, I need some info.”

  A brief moment of silence ensued. “I am not so sure I should be speaking with you, chudovishche, after the mess you made in New Orleans.”

  “All done under Remy’s orders, I assure you.”

  “So I’ve heard.” I heard fingernails tapping in the background. “Luther is not pleased. He knew some of the vampyr you killed.”

  Shit. “If I’d known, I would have spared them.” Maybe. “Anyway, that’s for me and Luther to hash out. Are you going to help me, or not?”

  “Da, I will help you. Ask.”

  “I need a list of vampire safe houses in the city, locations that may have been recently constructed, or that changed ownership in the last few months.”

  Sophia Doroshenko chuckled humorlessly. “You do not ask for much.”

  “Let’s not play games. I know that Luther owns the companies that cover all those contracts in the city, because he’s the only one who can assure discretion for those clients. And, I know his real estate company handles property transactions for the local vampire community. So, it’s not like you don’t have access to that info.”

  “You seem to know quite a lot about Luther’s dealings. More than he has told you, da?”

  “I’m the justiciar, Sophia. It’s my job to know what goes on in this demesne.”

  It was a half-truth. The fact was, when I’d taken on the role of justiciar, Finnegas had told me everything he knew about each faction, so I’d know how to hurt them if I had to. “Insurance” is what he called it. The old man hadn’t lived two-thousand years by not being in the know, that was certain.

  More finger tapping in the background. “I will look into this and call you back shortly.”

  The phone went dead. I finished drying off and got dressed, smelling myself again as I did. Gah, still a little ripe. Time to let magic do what soap and water can’t. I cast the same cantrip I’d used to cover Fallyn’s scent on myself. Another sniff test proved the spell to be a success.

  My phone dinged with a text from Sophia.

  -List attached. Don’t make me regret this.-

  I looked in the mirror, checking to make sure I didn’t look like a bum before I headed out. “Hope you’re ready, Germain. Because I’m coming for you.”

  The most recent real estate transaction on the list was a little country house on some acreage, just outside of town on 290 West. The title and deed information said it had been purchased by Apropos Holdings, LLC. Germane—Apropos—clever. I mashed the pedal to the floor to make time as I headed out of town. My watch said 8:17 when I reached the area, late enough for the sun to have dropped below the western horizon.

  If he’s there, he’ll be up. Going to have to do this the hard way.

  I drove past the place and parked where the street dead-ended about a block down. The neighbor’s houses looked quiet, which was both good and bad. I hoped I could get this done without getting the authorities involved, but it was doubtful. Saint Germain was old and powerful, and he’d put up one hell of a fight.

  No time to bullshit around. Better go in with guns blazing.

  I jumped the neighbor’s fence, staying low and hidden in the trees while I followed their fence line all the way to the back corner. Then, I took several minutes to press scrap silver into the tips of several dozen hollow points. Jury-rigged silver rounds, just like grandma used to make back in the ol’ Hellpocalypse.

  It wasn’t ideal because the ballistics would be shit, but they’d do at close range. Once that task was done, I loaded four mags and strapped my tactical belt on, adding my holstered Glocks and silver-plated Bowie knife as well.

  Not quite a short sword, but it’ll do.

  Preparations complete, I stealth-shifted to ensure I could at least match Germain in strength and resilience, if not speed. As usual, I checked for traps, wards, and alarm spells, negating them so they wouldn’t trip as I jumped the fence onto his property. Once I was inside, I altered the alarm spell, adding a ward that would specifically prevent anyone from coming in or out without getting zapped by a massive fire and lightning spell.

  Okay, Germain, let’s see what you got. If you’re what I think you are, you’ll see the trap—if not, it’s barbecue time. Either way, I win.

  There were clear cut paths all around the fence perimeter, but I decided to slink through the cedar and oak trees as I made my way toward the house. The paths were likely created to facilitate security sweeps, so I kept an eye out for roaming patrols as I crossed the property. The place was eerily silent, and the woods were so still I could hear my own heartbeat. As I neared the house, everything around me went quiet—birds stopped chirping, cicadas and crickets went silent, heck, even the tiny bit of wind died down to nothing.

  It didn’t feel right, and I was obviously walking into an ambush or trap. I reached out with my druid senses, and through a screech owl’s eyes I saw Germain waiting in the shadows of the home’s back porch.

  He knows I’m here. Damn.

  But as good old Rorschach once said, “I’m not locked in here with you, you’re locked in here with me.” I stepped out of the trees and marched in the open toward the house, dropping all pretense of remaining hidden. “Come on out, Germain. You obviously know I’m here, so let’s get this over with. I’m long overdue for a shower and a good night’s sleep, and the sooner I finish you off, the better.”

  The centuries-old vampire stepped out of shadow and off the back porch of the home. He was dressed much as he had been when I’d seen him last, in a suit vest, slacks, and dress shoes. Just as before, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, but this time he held a walking cane that he twirled in his fingers like a baton. The old vampire stopped just off the porch and across the yard, and I noticed he had a weird leather bandolier strapped across his chest in the moonlight. Instead of carrying bullets or knives, the thing held small glass vials.

  Okay, that’s just weird.

  “Do you always carry your perfume collection around with you? Or did I catch you in the middle of working your side hustle? Trying to earn that pink Cadillac, maybe?”

  Germain stopped twirling his cane, resting the tip on the ground between his feet so he could stack his hands on the handle. He set his feet wide, squaring his shoulders as he stared at me through stormy eyes beneath a furrowed brow.

  “While you may think this is amusing, I fail to find the humor in the situation. You killed good vampires the other night—many were the offspring of friends I’ve long held in high regard. And for what? So you can square a debt with that scoundrel Remy?” He scowled. “What a waste.”

  “It’s true that I owed Remy a debt, but the fact is I can’t allow a feral vampire to live. After seeing what you did to that man, your existence is something I simply cannot abide.”

  Germain scoffed. “Seriously? You’re upset over that human? Monsieur McCool, if you knew anything about the New Orleans coven, you’d be cheering my actions instead of condemning them.”

  “I know what I saw. And you know you took a risk coming to Austin. As the justiciar for this demesne, I have both the power and authority to take you down—and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

  “Luther might say otherwise.”

  “I don’t answer to Luther!” I growled, perhaps a bit louder than I intended. I took a moment to calm my voice before speaking. “Now, is there anything you want to say before I separate your head from your shoulders?”

  The vampire sighed, a human affectation if ever there was one. What a drama queen.

  “Are you certain I can’t dissuade you from this course of action?” he asked.

  “Not on your second life,” I said with certainty.

  “Then, I suppose I have no choice but to defend myself. En garde!”

  Germain drew a long, needle-thin blade from his cane. He brandished it about like Zorro before assuming fencing’s sixth hand position with the cane sword.

  “I’m sorry—did you just
say ‘en garde’?” I asked.

  Germain relaxed his posture, standing a bit taller as he answered. “I did. A gentleman always puts his opponent on notice before he attacks.”

  “R-i-i-ight,” I said mockingly. Germain lowered into his stance again, rolling out his shoulders in a manner reminiscent of Bruce Lee. I wanted him good and pissed, not relaxed, so I pointed at his chest. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the deal with the bottles?”

  He smiled, and not in a friendly way. “If you decide to use your magic to gain advantage, then you’ll find out. Draw a weapon, or fight me empty-handed if you must, because I grow tired of this nattering.”

  “Nattering,” I muttered. “Geez, it’s not like you had to make this personal.”

  Germain sighed. “Are you quite done?”

  “Hang on.” I reached into my Bag and made a show of rummaging around. “I know have a sword in here somewhere. There it is—nope, that’s not it. Maybe this? Nope, that’s certainly not for public consumption. Ah, there it is.”

  I pulled out a broadsword and swept it around me in a figure-eight, left-handed. It wasn’t silver, and I had no intention of fighting Germain with it. The sword was merely a distraction.

  Wait for it—

  The vampire relaxed his stance again and rolled his eyes. “Now, are you ready—?”

  As soon as he took his eyes off me, I drew one of my Glocks with my right hand, snapping off three rounds just as quickly as possible. The pistol wasn’t fully-automatic, but the three-round burst sounded almost like one shot. The first round hit a surprised Saint Germain in the shoulder, then he leaned away before the gun could cycle the second and third shots.

  Shit! I was aiming for his head. Should’ve used the sunlight spell instead.

  I kept shooting at him, but damn it if he wasn’t zipping around like Speedy Gonzales on a carnival firing range. Realizing I wasn’t going to get another shot, I stuck the sword in ground, tip first, in order to release my sunlight spell. Just as I extended my hand toward the vamp, he snatched a vial from his bandolier and smashed it against the ground.

  Instantly, a nearly impenetrable cloud of shadowy smoke surrounded Germain. My eyes strained to pick him out in the darkness, but the smoke obscured the vamp almost completely.

  No sense wasting my spell. Time for plan B.

  I switched my pistol to my left hand and drew my silver-plated Bowie knife in my right. After preparing another spell, I leapt across the clearing and into the smoke. I knew Germain would be waiting for me within that cloud, obscured from view and waiting to rip my throat out, but that was my plan.

  It took but the blink of an eye to close that gap, but I was much, much faster in this stealth-shifted form. In mid-leap, already committed to my course, I sprayed the area where I intended to land with another three-round burst from my pistol. I didn’t expect to hit Germain. I merely wanted him distracted while I sprang my trap.

  Holstering the pistol while still in the air, I released my second spell. A gust of wind blew up all around, partially blowing Germain’s magic smoke cloud out of the way. It didn’t work completely, as the stuff seemed to cling to the ground and everything else with a mind of its own. However, it did diminish his cover enough to reveal where the vampire remained hidden.

  That’s when I cut loose with the sunlight spell. The old vamp covered his face with his arms, leaving the exposed skin on his hands and forearms to take the brunt of it. Instantly, the light caused his skin to bubble and crisp, burning away the top layers to char and blacken the flesh underneath. The old vampire howled in rage and pain as he zipped around the corner of the house, well before I could land and plunge the knife in his heart.

  Here comes the finale, in three—two—one.

  Somewhere on the other side of the house, lightning struck and a fireball flared into the sky. I holstered my pistol and calmly walked around the house, humming the chorus to The Misfits’ “Last Caress” as I rounded the corner. And what did I see but Germain, fried to a crisp and draped across the front gate of the property. He was missing a few fingers from his left hand, his right foot was nearly blown off, and the entire front half of his body was one charred, blackened mess.

  I strolled up to him, enjoying the moment as I flipped the huge Bowie between my fingers. Every few seconds, Germain’s body would twitch, the residual electricity from the lightning spell attempting to move muscles that were now unable to respond. Most of the flesh on one side of his face had been burned away, reminding me of Aaron Eckhardt’s Two-Face in The Dark Knight. The vamp’s jaw worked as if he were trying to speak, but only a raspy groan escaped his lips.

  Strangely, the only stitch of clothing left fully intact was that weird bandolier. And even more strange, every last bottle remained intact as well. I yanked it over his head, tossing it to the side. The thing was obviously spelled. There was no sense in letting him pull any tricks out of his sleeves.

  “Mmm-mmm! Nothing like the smell of crispy vampire in the morning.” I leaned over his badly burned form, casually batting away a carbon-covered hand as he tried to grab me. “You don’t look so good, Germain. But guess what? I know you’re going to heal, even without feeding. You old ones are resilient like that. So, I’m just going to sit here casting fire spells at you, burning you over and over again, until you tell me what I need to know.”

  He stared at me with his remaining intact eye. “A-a-ssk,” he croaked.

  “Who’s your contact at the Cold Iron Circle? And what are they planning to do with the Eye?”

  He blinked, once, twice. His chest heaved, and he began to cry. At least, I thought he was crying, at first—then I realized he was laughing.

  “You—you thought I was the one?” More laughter, rasping and wheezing. “All this time?”

  I grabbed him by the neck, squeezing and shaking him until his crisp skin split beneath my fingers. The vampire still silently shook with laughter. Apparently, the fact that I’d cut off his air didn’t affect his mirth the least little bit.

  “This isn’t funny, Germain, and it’s not a game. Believe me, I’ll make your remaining time on this Earth a living hell. I’ve had plenty of practice. Tell me, who else is colluding with the Circle? Names, now!”

  He stopped laughing to stare at me, weighing me somehow. The intensity of his gaze was more than a little intimidating, even in his current state and with only one working eye. In that moment, I may as well have been standing in front of Osiris, having my heart measured against the weight of a feather.

  “The vampire you want is the one you’re working for,” he croaked. “Remy DeCoudreaux has been in league with the Circle for some time now, scheming in order to bring the humans under his heel. And I’m trying to stop him.”

  Fuck.

  14

  He could be lying. In Germain’s current state and position, I realized he might say anything to avoid death at my hands. But my instincts told me otherwise. The way he’d reacted to my accusations, his expressions, the certainty in his voice—it all told me I’d been pursuing the wrong person the whole time.

  Better make damned sure, though.

  I pulled him off the fence, then reset the containment spell. Next, I shackled Germain hand and foot in silver cuffs, dragging him up his front steps where I tossed him on an outdoor bench. As I did, I noticed the vamp’s body was healing faster than I might have imagined. Already the muscles on his face were beginning to regenerate, even without the benefit of a feeding. By my estimate, he’d be entirely healed within the course of the next half-hour.

  The process will leave him weak, but he could still be dangerous. Best figure this out before he fully heals.

  I leaned against his front porch railing, arms crossed but within easy reach of my knife and pistol. “Alright, I’m listening. Prove it.”

  The vamp coughed and spat out a clot of black blood and charred flesh. “I was sent by the European coven leaders to investigate DeCoudreaux’s dealings with the Circle. Since their inception,
The Cold Iron Circle has been at odds with vampires, lycans, and fae alike—more so than their European counterparts. This has never changed, not in the many centuries of their existence.”

  “Yeah, they’re not too keen on humans who work with supernaturals either. I was on their shit list for quite some time. They nearly did me in a couple of times, at least until I managed to turn the tables on them.”

  Germain nodded. “Someone sympathetic to the supernatural races with your powers would certainly be perceived as a threat by the Circle. In days past, they have gone after our human allies—that’s almost to be expected. But never before have they allied themselves with our kind. Or any of the supernatural species, for that matter.”

  “How far-reaching is this alliance? Surely there’d be dissent among their ranks if it became known that the Circle was working with their sworn enemies.”

  “Correct. To our knowledge, only one or perhaps two of their leaders are involved. The Council as a whole wouldn’t stand for it, such is their hatred of us.”

  I scratched the stubble on my chin. “If what you’re saying is true, then something caused one or more of the Council members to go rogue.”

  “Exactly. And now, that person is colluding with Remy DeCoudreaux, but to what end we don’t really know. I came back to New Orleans under the pretense of competing with him politically for his seat as coven leader. In actuality, I’ve been trying to discover who his Circle contact is and what they’ve been planning.”

  “Ah—that’s why you came to Austin.”

  He gave the barest smile. “My spies within Remy’s coven were unable to determine the identity of his ally. I thought I could find information here that would reveal who that person is and what they want from DeCoudreaux.”

  I tsked and raised an eyebrow. “Still doesn’t explain the guy I found at your mansion.”

  Germain chuffed. “One of Remy’s familiars—and a particularly nasty one, at that. I’d been questioning him for info on his master’s dealings with the Circle.”