I took the glass that was frosty cold due to her hands. “That’s more like it.”
Izumi stepped back and faded magically in a swirl of snowflakes, her voice lagging a little behind, “Later, love.”
Angie dropped into the other recliner, sitting cross legged in the chair. The bouncing of her large breasts told me she wasn’t wearing a bra. That’s what I like about lady werewolves; they seldom do. Something about cleavage diminished the rage I should have been feeling.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Sorry I got in the way before.”
“You didn’t just happen to get in the way. You turned on me in a fight. I’ve killed people for less.”
“I’m … sorry.”
“You should be. Fortunately, I know how you can make it up to me.”
“How’s that?”
“We could start with a lap dance. I’m sure other things will occur to me. Later, I’ll even let you get on top.”
“Let me? I’m a wolf. I take what I want.” Angie looked to the open door, then back at me, her eyes burning amber. She bit her bottom lip in indecision, staying in the big yellow chair that dwarfed her. “I can’t give you what you want. You’re hurt and weak. I’d break you.”
“You can try.” I downed half the drink, feeling it burn down my throat. “I may be hurt and weakened, but part of me definitely isn’t dead.” I pointed at the pup tent in my trousers.
Through the cloth, she eyed the humongous size of my engorged package, and unconsciously licked her lips. “Well…”
The door creaked open a little wider as William walked in.
Come on! Can’t a man get laid after a close call on his life?
William sniffed. As a wolf, his nose would easily pick up on the sexual tension in the room. He looked at Angie. “Give us a moment.”
She nodded, unfolding her legs, sliding them to the floor while leaning forward. I had a wonderful if frustrating view down inside her shirt. Standing, she hurried off, closing the office door behind her.
William turned to me, staring down. I really didn’t like that, or the look of blood in his eyes. Here was a wolf thinking of killing something.
FOURTEEN
“Vodka? No, just water. Ignore
the empties in the trash.”
—Caine Deathwalker
“Angie told me what happened at the Mission,” William said.
“Yeah, your granddaughter’s a hand full.”
“She can be, but family is family.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I need to know you’re not going after her for what she did. I don’t know why she did it, but I’m sure she had a good reason.”
“I can’t promise anything when she’s liable to try and kill me again. And I’m pretty sure she’s involved with a succubus I need to kill. I don’t see how we’re not going to clash.”
“Then there not much left to talk about.” William lunged.
Drawing a silver dagger, I sliced at him to force him back while rolling sideways, over an armrest. I hit the floor and a grunt of pain escaped me. Sparks danced before my eyes as the world tried to go gray. Dragging my feet under me, I braced for whatever he’d do next. Damn so weak. I felt like a girl scout could knock me over with a cookie.
The chair was snatched up and flung across the room, crashing into a barstool and the side of the bar.
Crap, Old Man will make me pay for that even though it’s my own house.
I stood crouching, watching his face crinkle in fury, the bones melting, flowing into a more bestial shape. His nails lengthened into claws. He didn’t completely change since it was daylight, but an extra twenty pounds of solid muscle ghosted onto him from nowhere, and his eyes were full wolf
I tossed my knife, hoping to bury it in his heart.
He blurred to the side, letting it safely pass through the spot he’d vacated, hitting the far door. Damn! He had full wolf speed. I didn’t dare try a spell with my arm not quite healed. All my tats were interlinked, tapping my life force. Something could go deadly wrong if they weren’t back in balance yet. It would be an irony I’d never live down if I killed myself trying to save my life.
I cross-drew my twin PPK’s, trying to remember if either of them had a silver clip ready to go.
Kicked, the door exploded inward.
William paused, glowering over his shoulder at the intruder.
“It was unlocked,” I yelled, “thanks for costing me money.”
Angie ran into the room. Forgetting William was her Alpha, with power of life and death over her, she screamed at him, “What in hell do you think you’re doing?”
He growled.
Realizing she was challenging him, she lowered her eyes meekly, stopping, dropping to her knees in submission.
William swung back to me, utter disdain in his eyes over my choice of weapons, until a swirl of black mist appeared between us, solidifying into a hundred and forty pounds of Spirit Leopard. Leona crouched, muscles bunched, white fangs bared, as she hissed in white-hot fury.
“Hiding behind a kitty cat?” William asked.
“Yeah,” I said, “you know all about courage, attacking an invalid and all.”
Angie was up off her knees, but still low to the floor, edging around William, giving him lots of room. Leona caught the movement, switching her baleful stare to the she wolf, sending a growl that way.
“Everyone, stand down,” I said. “This is over.”
Leona gave no sign she’d heard me, but William made a show of relaxing, shaking the tension from his body, offering me a wolf’s friendly grin.
I didn’t buy it. I kept my guns extended, covering William and Angie. She’d turned on me in a fight once before. I don’t forget things like that.
William’s hand, the one closest to Angie, twitched.
Reading the signal, she lunged, scooping up Leona, carrying her off to the side. Leona squalled, squirming, her claws slicing and dicing. I heard Angie cussing passionately as blood was drawn. At the same time, William leaped for me, into the rapid-fire thunder of my automatics. I guess one of the clips did have silver, cause he flinched aside, crashing to the ground, twitching like a junkie, claws gouging the floor,
Angie tried to break away from Leona, only to find that next to impossible. Leona had every claw hooked into Angie while straining to reach the wolf’s throat. Angie’s face had coarsened, shadowed with fuzz, turning bestial with a partial change. Her wolf yellow eyes were losing all trace of human control as I watched. Their struggle would soon be one only death could end.
“Leona,” I called, “let her go.”
She continued to ignore me. I couldn’t really blame her. It had probably been a long time since she’d been able to pull out all the stops. Still, I didn’t want two dead wolves on my hands.
William started writhing. I wondered, How the hell isn’t he dead yet?
The windows crashed in, and more of William’s pack arrived, I knew the answer. Pack magic. As Alpha, he had the power—the magic and the life force—of all his wolves to draw upon. His wounds spat out the crumpled silver slugs, closing up. Silver wounds normally are difficult for wolves to heal. This was the difference being an Alpha made.
William’s eyes were open, centered on me, promising me an orgy of pain.
His wolves were coming on fast. I knew I couldn’t outrun them. Fortunately, Old Man and I had contingency plans for just such events.
The chimney was right behind me. I crawled inside, and grabbed the lever built into the fireplace grate. A steel door dropped, sealing me. I didn’t worry about Leona out there with all those wolves; she could fade out whenever things got too rough. I pushed the lever back in place. This activated the dumbwaiter I was in. The small platform I was on dropped smoothly. In moments, I’d be in the wine cellar.
Above me, the steel barrier dented, booming as William battered it with preternatural strength.
I grinned. “Good luck with that, buddy, it’s charmed.”
; The battering continued.
The dumbwaiter reached the basement where a wall panel hinged out of my way. I crawled out, stepping down to the floor. I walked over to the desk in the armory section. I had emergency guns, ammo, and swords from all over from those I’d killed. I grabbed extra handguns, paying little attention to what type, and looked for silver ammo. I was glad I had the backup armory in here, but could have also used some armor.
Note to self: put some in here … if you live.
One sword wasn’t a trophy, the one Old Man and Red-Fang had made for me. Displayed above its black lacquered sheath, the katana was all black, four and a half feet long instead of the usual three and a half. The round hand guard was a circling dragon wreathed in flames.
It begged to be used, wanting to spill blood in my name.
I lifted my hand, reaching toward the sword on the wall. “C’mon, baby, let’s go killin’” The repaired rune on my right arm burned like acid, but the pain was welcome, a sign that magic was awakening to my call. I needed to be sure of that before going back upstairs to take on a whole pack of wolves.
The sword disappeared in a pale gray cloud of smoke, creating a soft whump of imploding air, and reappeared in my closing hand. Excellent.
Carrying the blade to the cooler, I took a bottle of wine out and opened it. Four hundred years old, just right for a possible last drink. I guzzled with abandon, corked the bottle, and put it back.
Now, to get back upstairs. Angie knew about the elevator. Activating the dumbwaiter had deactivated its controls, but it would be watched along with the chimney. That left only one way to go—the treasure vault. Despite what I’d led Angie to believe, the chamber couldn’t be physically accessed from here. The only portal there was magical; the mirror in my room. I went to a jumble of old furniture, each piece an antique covered with a sheet. Throwing a sheet aside, I uncovered what looked to be second mirror. There was a third inside my vault, but not really. They were all the same mirror, occupying three different points due to a set of magical wrinkles in the time-space continuum. Stepping through any one could take you out of either of the others.
My fingers traced the runes carved into the frame. No pain came as the portal opened. The magic of enchanted objects is paid for by the one who fashions such things. The glass rippled like water as I stepped through the full-length mirror, entering my vault.
A living room set surrounded me, an office desk and laptop off to the side. At the far end were two Mayan-style pyramids, one made of silver, the other gold. Between them lay heaps of gold coins and precious jewels. Another pile contained ancient relic and enchanted artifacts. A large cooler held my rarest wines. Wafting overhead, several will-o-the–wisps hung like silver-blue stars, throwing soft light everywhere.
One of them came over, shifting to a yellowish green in agitation. It wined at me, “We want to go home. The iron here hurts us.”
I shrugged. “You should have thought bout that before leaving the land of Faire to cause trouble in my territory. Killing people draws too much attention.”
“They were old and sickly. They couldn’t swim worth poop.”
“They were senior citizens, someone’s grandparents. Only I’m allowed to put them out of their misery.”
“We won’t do it again. We promise.”
“I know you won’t. I need the free power.”
I was just about to turn around and use the mirror to go to my bedroom when I felt demonic energy coming in. I scanned the room. A blue-green haze shimmered in the air. Old Man stepped out of it, turning to face me.
“How did you get in here?” I demanded.
“I taught you everything you know, not everything I know.”
“Yeah, well just don’t take anything.”
“As if. This is trash compared to my vault.”
“Really?” I said, “Where did you say you kept your stuff?”
“Isn’t it too soon to be going back on the job?” Old Man said.
“Like I got a choice. Have you seen what’s going on upstairs?”
“No, I came straight to you.”
I explained what had happened, until Old Man put a hand up for me to stop, and pulled out his phone. He dialed, waited, and said, “Achill, I have a problem with one of your Alphas. Yeah, I’m still in LA. His name? William Cooper. He and a large number of wolves have broken into my home. Yes, that is unfortunate. Well, I could tell him to stand down, but he might not. Then I’d be forced to…”
He listened quietly, nodding his head now and then, and said, “Sure, I’ll let you handle it. We are friends after all. What? Oh, sure, I’ll bring the wine and the old chess set. I look forward to another game. Goodbye, old friend.”
What the hell…!
I knew each country had its Fenrisulfr or “Wolf of Hell” to rule over its Alphas, the original being the son of the Norse god Loki. On trips out of the country, I’d partied with Brazil’s master wolf a few times, but I didn’t know the Fenris for the United States. He kept a low profile, often talked about only in mythic terms and tones of awe.
And here Old Man had him on speed dial.
I looked him in the eye with my best don’t-bull-shit-me stare. “When did you meet the US Fenris?” I asked.
“Civil War, back when Sherman was burning Atlanta. Those were the days. We did quite a lot of hell-raising back then. Achill’s a good man, good wolf. We stayed in touch.”
“We’re going to talk about this later,” I said.
I used the portal to transfer to my bedroom. Old Man followed along. We headed for the office. There was no sign of wolves overrunning the house. Things were strangely quiet. Guns in hand, I burst into the office. William’s wolves wee squatting around him in postures of dejection. Several of them looked like they’d been mauled by a leopard. Leona was on the bar, licking blood off her paws.
Sitting on what remained of a broken loveseat, William sweated bullets, holding his phone to a fuzzy, pointy ear. He didn’t even make eye contact, cringing at whatever Achill was saying. Angie was doing the same; with her wolf hearing she didn’t need to be close to the phone.
Calmly, Old Man strolled past me. I fell in behind him, ready to back him up in case the trouble wasn’t over. Oddly, I should have felt tired as hell, but the adrenaline rush seemed to agree with me.
William put his phone away, stood, and gathered his people, leaving by way of one of the broken windows. Angie shot a look of regret over her shoulder, and mouthed the words “I’m sorry.”
I gave her my stone-cold stare until she was gone. Izumi had let these guys into my territory. The smoldering anger in me was for her more than anyone else. She might look hella great, naked, legs spread for me, but there were limits to this kind of stupidity.
I went back behind the bar and poured some white wine, for everyone. Old Man sipped his, absently, obviously distracted. Leona lapped at what I set before her.
As if reading my mind, Old Man said, “Bill Izumi for the damages.”
“Suits me.” I threw back my drink and headed for the same broken window the wolves had used, knowing it faced Izumi’s house.
“Where are you going,” Leona called.
“I gotta see a bitch about getting the hell outta town.”
FIFTEEN
“One should never cut off one’s
penis to spite one’s face. It hurts.”
—Caine Deathwalker
Still convalescing, every step barely seemed to move me ahead. The weapons I carried gave comfort, but they also weighed me down. Or maybe I just didn’t want to do this. Izumi had lived next door for years, a first class demon, both in and out of bed. The dragon magic in my tats could deal with her—if I could pay the price in pain. The bitch had destabilized my territory. She had to go.
Didn’t she?
Unbidden, memories came: Izumi in my arms, in tangled sheets, lathered up in the shower, on her knees before me her warm mouth sheathing my—
I shook off the vision and growled at th
e scent of opium smoke in the air, laced with demon herbs. The smoke came from her house, an aromatic spell designed to waken my intensions. Subtle. It wasn’t the attacks I’d see coming I had to worry about, but the ones I’d never see.
Mentally, I traced the pattern of one my tats and felt it burn to life, a sensation similar to a bullet kicking a hole in my head. I staggered, stumbled, but didn’t go down. After a moment, my vision cleared and I could breathe again. With the defensive shield now around me, it would take a high level spell to do more than irritate me. Already, the narcotic smoke in the air transformed to purifying sage.
Point to me.
I reached her fence. Usually I stepped over. This time, I kicked it in. Boards cracked and flew like a bomb blast had gone off. My foot was hurting—it bitched me out.
Shut-up.
I limped up the walkway to her porch, climbed the stairs, and stopped in front of the door. Every mystic alarm she had was probably clamoring for attention. She’d be expecting me to kick the door in. I would have, but knew I needed to conserve all the strength I could, no matter how pissed I was.
I kept my voice low and gravelly, “Open up.”
I counted heartbeats. One … two … three… The door swung open silently. No one was there to greet me. How rude.
I stepped inside and noticed that the house temperature had to be somewhere around twenty below. The air I breathed sandpapered my lungs. Exhaling, my breath hung as a cloud in my face. I went down the hall, into a deserted living room, and brushed a frosted bamboo tree in a small pot on a long narrow table behind a white leather couch. The main bamboo stem and the two that spiraled around it snapped off and fell to the table. The dead growth lay before a silver frame. Inside the frame was a picture of me at a party, pounding a piñata into submission. The blindfold I wore only covered one eye. It was easier that way.
Red Moon Demon (Demon Lord) Page 11