“Hey,” Angie’s eyes were bright wolf-yellow, “I’m a bitch, not a slut.”
I smiled at Leona. “We’re going to have a house guest for a few days. Try not to kill her. It would touch upon my honor.”
Leona sat on her haunches, studying Angie’s boobs. “Are those even real?”
Angie took them in hand and gave them a little flounce. “Hell, yes. What, jealous?”
I walked to my room, set the pitcher on the nightstand, and went to the closet. My guns and swords went inside along with my long coat. My image was caught on the far side of the bed by a giant mirror on the wall. I changed into my black silk PJs. Once I was done, I lay on my bed and stared up at the plasma screen TV attached to the ceiling. Remote in hand, I began to surf channels, keeping one ear open for savage animal screams and the sound of breaking furniture.
Such sounds never came. That was far more ominous.
In the back of my mind, a clock had been running since I used my tat for vampire speed. I knew when an exact hour had passed because the bill came due with a vengeance, without any adrenaline in my system to take off the edge. Every muscle in both legs locked with severe cramps. I cursed, slid to the side, and fell out of bed trying to get weight on my legs to ease the pain. It didn’t ease. It piled on, spiking to higher levels as I screamed for help.
Angie and Leona appeared in my doorway, staring down at my writhing with looks of polite interest on their faces.
“Get me up! Get me up!” I yell.
“What a perv,” Leona stalked off.
Angie went after her.
Bitches. If I could have walked, I’d have gone for my gun.
ELEVEN
“My sweet dreams are your nightmares.”
—Caine Deathwalker
I dreamed of hot blood drizzling from the sky, and the sweet screeching cry of dragons wheeling through the clouds, fighting. I sat on a beach chair, katana across my lap, drinking a skull full of wine. A young dragon—only three tons—romped over and sniffed at my drink. I smacked him in the snout. “Get your own, you freeloading bastard.”
He swung his head toward me and a long wet tongue flailed out.
I opened my eyes to see Leona next to me, her tongue sliding back into her mouth. Sphinx-like, her head tilted in curious interest, she posed an unspoken question.
I said, “Yes, damn it, I’m awake. Keep your slobber to yourself.”
She flashed a leopard’s less-than-comforting smile. “One; you looked too happy, and two; your wolf’s snooping around the house while you’re sleep, asshole.”
“Great, one more bitch to worry about. I rolled out of bed and checked the door. It was closed; the magic runes were activated, keeping our voices from leaving the room. I sometimes had “screamers” in my bed. This kept everyone in the neighborhood from getting jealous over my manly skills.
I’d added the sound barrier after someone called the cops on me, claiming I was killing a whore. Not that I have a problem with that; whores aren’t really people. Since they don’t have souls, they can’t even make a binding contract with a demon.
As Leona jumped down, I turned to her. “Hey, can you mask your scent?”
“Oh heavens, do I offend?”
“You know why,” I said.
“Yeah, her wolf senses are good, but I’m better.”
My smell was already all over the house so Angie wouldn’t scent me—unless I got too close. I’d use Leona for that. I opened the door and she led the way out into the hall. I tried to keep my tread light. I had to be very careful not to make noise. A wolf can hear a pin drop across a silent house.
The hallway dead ended just past the other bedrooms. I went the other way, to where it opened at a junction that offered access to either the kitchen or the living room. I could smell Angie’s musky scent. Silent, Leona looked at me, and headed into the living room. I followed from several feet back, sliding a foot forward and out, planting it, then shifting my weight forward. The crescent step technique was borrowed from Phoenix style Kung-Fu.
Quiet as a Shou-lin monk, I moved along the wall to the door of my office. It was open, but Leona waited until I reached her. As I arrived, senses straining, she slunk on through. I watched her ass, having taught her a kind of sign language she could send with her tail. She made a circuit of the room, pausing by the spell-guarded patio doors that led out to the pool and the pool house. Her tail made a hook, followed by two quick flicks. Angie hadn’t gone that way and she wasn’t in the bar.
From the bar, the only other place she could go was into the wine cellar, if she’d found the concealed elevator. Apparently she had. Now I was nervous, and not about the wine. Everything I hold dear is in a secret vault behind one of the walls down there. She was way too close to my biggest secret. I used one hand to sign, telling Leona to go invisible, go downstairs, and wait for me.
She flashed a happy, obedient grin that was both feral and threatening.
The good news was that the wine cellar was fairly well sound-proofed. Angie wouldn’t know I was onto her until she heard the elevator running. At which point, she’d either hide, or bluff it out, bottle in hand, claiming she only wanted a decent drink. Were she to go violent, well, Leona would be hovering close, ready to take on form. Spirit beasts make life so much easier. Of course, before I went down there, I needed to be in a hell of a lot more than black pee-jays.
I jogged back to my room, no longer concerned about noise. Before changing, I went to the huge mirror beyond the bed. Worked into the ornate frame, hidden in curlicues and other abstract patterns, were random Atlantean runes: the complete alpha-numeric orthography. I touched various symbols in a specific order. Had I needed emergency access, I could have powered up a tat, swallowing the pain, but that kind of urgency wasn’t required—yet. As I touched the last rune of my personal code, the glass surface ghosted away. I stepped through the frame, into my secret vault. Sensors noted my presence, turning the lights on. A frosted white light filled a vast warehouse. All my treasures were here, safe from the I.R.S. and other demonic forces.
I extended magically amplified senses, feeling a kick in the guts as a penalty. I staggered, bent by the blow, then straightened up. Smell and hearing assured me I was alone. Angie hadn’t got in. Neither her physical nor mystic resources had been up to the job. It didn’t help that the vault door waiting for her to find in the winery was a fake. She could spend the next year on it with no luck. The fake door was best money could buy, made to look real with three interlocking, multi-combination dials, an unlocking wheel that would only turn if all three dials had been turned in the right order.
Reassured, I left the vault with its extra-spatial dimensions, and returned to my bedroom. A few minutes later, I wore slacks, steel-toed boots, and a dark pullover shirt. I shrugged into shoulder holsters with sheaths hanging down my back for my short swords. The harness let me use a cross-draw for my automatics, and over-the-shoulder draws for my twin short swords. I slid a knife into my boot sheath, and added infrared goggles, letting them hang around my neck until needed.
I went back to the bar and the elevator, stepping into the car. Punching the control panel started the cage moving down. The mechanism hummed until the cage jarred to a stop. The door slid open. I’d been ready with a major spell in case Angie sprang in, bringing the fight to me. This didn’t happen. The lights hadn’t been disabled either. I stepped out, making no effort to hide.
I made my way forward, passing a number of refrigerated coolers, the shelves lined with wine bottles. My nose told me she was at the first basement. Somehow, I didn’t think she’d be hiding. I was right; I found her in the munitions corner, standing in plain sight, checking the tools I used to make my ammo. She was admiring some of my generic blades and body armor. I knew she’d barely started trying to breach the hidden vault door because she’d hadn’t set off any of the protective spells, or electronics waiting for the incautious.
Off to the side, atop a stack of ration crates and jerry cans
of water, a black mist whirled and solidified into Leona. I signed that she should stay put and wait on further developments.
Angie turned as if just now sensing me. She had one of my bottles of wine under her arm. “Cool place you have here,” she said. “Hope you don’t mind me sampling the private stock.”
“The secret vault giving you trouble?” I asked.
She smiled, lacking a real poker-face. That grin told me I was right.
“I’ve killed people for less, you know?” I said.
Angie shifted the bottle from under her arm, taking it in both hands. I think she planned to throw it if necessary. “I’m not trying to steal anything. I’m just looking for something.”
“In my vault?” I asked.
“I just need to look, so can you could please open it…?” Angie was on edge, looking at me like the enemy. Whatever she sought was important, but I’d not put anything in my vault for a while.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re after and I’ll tell you if it’s in there,” I said.
Angie looked to be thinking very hard. I looked at her ears for signs of smoke. I didn’t think that thinking was something she did too well, outside a courtroom.
Leona sat on her haunches, swishing her tail.
Angie said, “Sarah is missing. We have no idea where she is. We can’t find a trace of her. Her house barely has her scent. Nothing seems out of place or broken, but the place feels wrong somehow.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“You live on the same block, and you are demon scum.”
“Powerful demon scum,” I reminded her.
“Exactly,” she said. “We’re thinking you probably took her.”
“And why would I do that,” I asked.
“Sarah is half fey and very pretty. She has a lot of power, but no idea how to use it. That makes her as easy target,” Angie said. “So, can I look at what’s behind the door?”
I walked away laughing heading for the elevator and the bar.
“Hey,” she ran after me, “I’m serious. It would be a sign of good faith.”
I stepped onto the elevator and turned my smile toward her. “Tell you what, you keep the bottle, and I don’t kill you. There’s your good faith.”
“But I trusted you. I told you everything.”
“I know.” I looked at her with sad pity as the door closed. The elevator started running with a happy hum. I wasn’t concerned anymore about Angie being in the wine cellar. Leona would keep her out of trouble. Meanwhile, I had some thinking to do.
If I help the wolves find Sarah, they’ll owe me. I can have the whole pack looking for Haruka and Jessie—free labor.
The door opened and I stepped out behind the bar. I didn’t stop to get a drink. I just wanted to go back to bed and sleep. I made it back to my closet and shed my weaponry. By then, Angie burst into my room.
She said, “If you don’t have Sarah, let me see inside your safe.”
Naked, I turned to her, “Angie, I don’t have Sarah. I’ll help look for her, but I’m the only one going inside my vault. Now get in my bed or go away.”
I closed the closet door and strolled over to the nightstand where I picked up my phone. I sent a text to Izumi and the old man, telling them what was happening, and to put the word out that we were now looking for Sarah as well. I asked Izumi to get a picture of Sarah from William and to text it to me and the Old Man. Setting the phone down, I slid into silk sheets.
Angie stood there, glowering at me, fuming in silence.
I clapped my hands. The lights went out.
She clapped her hands, turning the lights back on, and stormed out of my room.
Yeah, that will show me.
I clapped the lights off again, and waited. A few moments later, a heavy weight dropped onto the bed. Leona stretched out beside me, rumbling softly, waiting for me to say something.
“What?” I asked.
“Don’t fuck around too much,” Leona said. “Wolves aren’t known for their humor.”
I waved her away.
I was glad to be alone. I’d used a lot of magic and needed more sleep. I sighed from the depth of my soul. Angie didn’t know what she was missing, sleeping on the living room couch.
* * *
I woke up a bit early. The sun was still up, but it was happy hour. That was good. I used my private shower, put on my black suit, but left the tie undone. My usual weapons were hidden under a long coat. I heard Leona and Angie in the kitchen, and smelled bacon, eggs, potatoes and steak.
The Old Man must have put food in my fringe again.
I went to the kitchen. Leona had half a plate of food in front of her. Izumi sat across from her, while Angie cooked on the center-island stove.
Grab a chair.” Leona had a piece of steak hanging out of mouth. “That bitch can cook”
I put on the Brazilian coffee and took a seat.
“You really like strong coffee, don’t you” Izumi said.
“Oh God, is that stuff nuclear grade?” Angie asked, “The smell alone is giving me a rush.”
“Just what I need to jumpstart my day,” I said.
We all sat at the table and dug in, except for Izumi who just had tea. I put some Irish cream in my coffee. Just for taste.
My phone played Tears of the Dragon. I touched the screen to pick up. “I’ve received word on a girl matching Sarah’s picture. I’m texting you the address. Now go find the two you should have been looking for all this time, you drunken, horny bastard.” Old Man hung up.
I wasn’t sure, but he seemed a little pissed at me. Fortunately, it didn’t spoil the taste of my food.
TWELVE
“There are worse things than
death, but nothing quite so fun.”
—Caine Deathwalker
The address was Mission Catholic Church, currently providing a food service for the homeless. The church felt weird, like the energy here was uncommitted, neither black or white. Just … pure energy, waiting on tap. Interesting.
I’d parked in the church’s parking lot on the side. The stairs going up the outside of the building led to the second floor, and were very well crafted. The place was mostly handmade before machines were used in construction. The stone blocks had seen a lot of time go by.
Angie and I walked to the front, noticing the six bells were clearly handmade. They’d been hanging there longer then I’d been alive. The double wooden doors were hand carved. I may hate all religions, but I had to hand it to the Catholics; they know how to make beautiful places.
I sent Angie in by herself and waited at the doorway. I could see the priest at the end of the line giving a wafer to homeless people too embarrassed to come to regular services to get their fix of God. Lay people made up most of those helping. The homeless hanging out were of all ages and ethnic groups. Standing there, I took sips from my flask; nothing like rum to help you endure being where you don’t want to be.
A little girl in pink leggings with a black, frilly layered skirt and pink tee walked up and looked me over. Her short hair was black as my own. I stared into her innocent eyes, and did not shield her from the darkness inside me.
She smiled.
I let the door close between us and went back around the corner to the stairs. Most likely, Angie would ask around and make me wait, and wait… I sat down.
The little girl appeared, having followed me. Her clothes were worn and faded with age, obvious hand me downs from somebody. Her hair needed to be washed along with her face, and she was downright starved looking. Still, she smiled, offering me a wafer.
I took it and absently thumbed its edge. It would be pretty hard to kill someone with this. Probably wouldn’t even fly straight. I liked shurikens better.
She sat next to me.
I said, “Little girl, you should not be so trusting to people you don’t know.” I looked around to make sure no one was looking and smiled back. “Where are your parents?”
She nodded at th
e church, and stopped smiling. “Mom tries hard, but we’re not like others.”
Now that she spoke, I heard something special in her voice, the inflections of Old Tongue. She was ninth or tenth generation dragon. I been around Red Fang, my tattoo guy, long enough to know what dragon tongue sounds like.
I used the Old Tongue myself, “Is that so?”
She looked surprised that I knew what she was.
A lady hurried around the corner looking panicky till she saw the little girl. The woman ran up to us and went to grab the girl, but froze in fear as our eyes locked.
“You’re her mother?” I asked.
The woman nodded yes, barely daring to breathe. Her glance slid to her daughter.
“She’s not afraid of me,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Sir, if you’ve been bothered,” the lady said.
“Don’t be. She has guts. That’s a good thing. Tell me what you’re doing here?” Using my Dragon’s Roar tat, I put just a little power in my words, feeling a burn between my shoulder blades as if a hot poker were pressing in.
“We just came to get some food, Sir.”
“No, why are you on the street when your daughter has dragon blood in her?”
“Her father’s dead. He owed a lot of money to the wrong people. I have no family, and didn’t know his.” She used simple words, making sure I got the point without taking to long. This woman had been around people with power and had paid for it. That was clear. She smelled human. I think she feared the dragons might take her child away if she went to them for help. Such things had happened.
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