Demon Lord 3: Blue Star Priestess

BLUE STAR PRIESTESS

MORGAN BLAYDE

© Copyright June 1, 2014

Acknowledgments:

To those who helped along the way: Jane O’Riva, Sally Ann Barnes, Denny Grayson, Scott Smith, Caroline Williams, Chris Crowe, Steve and Judy Prey, Penny Hill, Jim Czajkowski, Leo Little, Chris Smith, Jean Colgrove, Betty Johnson, Chris Reilly, and Tod Todd.

OFFICIAL WEBSITE:

www.morgan-blayde.com

ONE

“Flames engulf a shrieking world.  Sword in hand,

I bathe in blood.  Such soothing dreams…”

                                 
—Caine Deathwalker

Friggin’ jackass can’t make this easy. 

“Get back here!” I screamed
. 
“You can’t put off dying forever.”  The giant had raped a number of trees, literally humping wood, to the irritation of the dryads who lived within those trees.  They’d bitched to the half-fey lords of the forest, and they’d bestirred themselves to post a bounty.  

Yeah, I need to get paid. 
Why should virtue be its own reward?

I held my
matte-black Beretta PX4 Storm Compact in a relaxed grip.  Heated with use, the barrel smoked.  The magazine had started with fifteen 9mm rounds.  I was down to my last bullet while running my ass off.  The muzzle pointed down as I weaved between the Jeffrey pines, well off the horse trails.  The rough-barked trunks were spaced well apart.  A big man might wrap arms fully around one of the boles—maybe.

I didn’t often get up to the Horse Flats Campground in the
San Gabriel Mountains.  This part of the Angeles National Forest rose a mile higher than L.A., lying about thirty miles from the city.  The change from breathing brown air to winds rich with pine and sagebrush was quite pleasant.  So was the opportunity to kill something strong and tough, if somewhat stupid.  The mountain giant was small for his kind, only ten feet tall, but scary strong.  Scary period.  I had yet to determine which was uglier, his ass or face.

He scooped up a chunk of fallen log and lobbed it over his shoulder, trying to slow me.  A little to my left, the rotting log exploded against a pine tree, spraying me with bark and grubs.  The debris dropped to the ground, left behind as I bounded up a sharp incline dotted with occasional gray boulders.

“I can do this all day!” Thanks to the extra strength and stamina that came from being half dragon as well as human.  “Getting tired yet?” I huffed. 

The giant didn’t answer, only slowing a bit on the climb. 
He tripped and staggered over a pair of rocks that rolled underfoot.  Gripping two saplings, he caught himself and pulled forward instead of falling, nearly pulling the young trees from the ground.  The
burns he’d taken earlier were hampering him, but he showed determination to escape.

The runt-giant pulled off bolos he’d been wearing as a belt, though he lacked pants; mooning the world with a moss-covered ass.  His weapon was comprised of three leather cords ending in round stones.  The free ends were tied together.  Thrown right, the cords wrapped what they hit, usually tying the legs of running animals, bringing prey crashing down.  The stones could also break bones.

Bastard thinks that’ll work on me?

Running, I angled so more of the trees slid between us.  This time I was using them for cover.  I yelled, “You’re only digging your grave deeper!”

“Fuk yew!” he yelled back.

Without slowing any further, the mountain giant jumped, spun in the air, and threw the bolos as an opening appeared.  Showing experience, he aimed where I was going to be, not where I was.

I used peripheral vision to track the movements of the giant and the bolos.  They almost hit my face.  Fortunately, I grabbed one of the balls with my free hand, and used that contact to guide the bolos up in a circle over my head.  Cresting a hill, I jumped a fallen tree and sent the bolos flying back.  Landing on my feet, I kept a downward pace beside the giant, occasional trees lashing between us. 

The cords of the bolos had wrapped his thick neck, the ball-ends battering his face.  He careened straight into an evergreen and staggered back, his arms flailing comically.  Recovering, the giant veered closer, ready to close with me at last. 

As my
Dragon Flame
tattoo activated, I sucked in a deep breath, paying for my magic with punishing agony.  It felt like a corkscrew twisted deep into a kidney.  Thankfully, the pain was real, but not the damage.  My free hand directed my magic.  I’d been experimenting with the release of this spell, staggering the effect.  Instead of the usual leaping shaft of flame, I shot off the magical equivalent of photon torpedoes, producing a nice spread of fireballs.

Still choked by the bolos, he dodged several fireballs, and tried to bat another away like a goalie guarding a goal.  The dragon fire splattered, some hitting his head, but most of it falling against his chest.  The stone flesh fractured from the impacts.  His mud-colored blood briefly misted the air, hissing
.  I called the fire back to me, absorbing it, as the giant dropped like a rock, slamming the ground.  His eyes rolled to the back of his head.  His big maw hung open, a purple-brown tongue lolling out as his chest steamed.

I skidded to a stop and changed my gun’s magazine.

I should have been tired after chasing the damn tree-rapist all the way here, but I was fine.  It was a little weird how I’d become faster and stronger in the past seven months.  Even the bite of the cold, February air was nothing to me anymore.  I wore no jacket, finding my black chinos and a smoke-gray, long-sleeve shirt sufficient—that and my usual steel-toed shoes, useful in case I needed to stomp a forest ranger or something.

I loomed over the fallen giant, watching him twitch with stubborn signs of life.  Chunks were missing from his chest and his right forearm.  Smoke continued to curl up off him as he groaned.  Unlike other preternaturals, mountain giants heal slower than humans, on the same time scale as mountains actually.  The only thing they did
fast
was humping trees where dryads lived. I supposed it added to the illicit thrill.  His right hand useless, he used his left hand to roll a bit and pushed to his knees, wheezing heavily like a pervert on the phone.  Oozing sludgy blood down his abs, he fell back, bracing against a tree so he could keep his feet.  I shook my head in mock sympathy.  “See what happens when you run from me?  Now you have to use your non-dominant hand to jack-off with, or pay for a hooker that does monsters.”

The giant looked at me with blood-streaked, emerald eyes.  Crouching low, the ass-hat was almost eye
-level with me.  I waited for him to catch his breath, pull his head out of his ass, and tell me what clan he was from.  I needed to know what he was doing so close to L.A.—other than pissing off the tree-spirits.  The mountains around here hadn’t seen a mountain giant in ages.  The bolo he’d worn suggested a South American origin.

No longer cupping his damaged ear, he lean
ed forward, glaring at me.

I pointed my Beretta at his damaged ear.  “Here’s how we’ll play this—every time you don’t answer me, or lie, I shoot you.”  I squeezed off a shot.  His bad ear vanished altogether.  “Just like that.”

The giant’s good hand cupped what
had been
his right ear.  He screamed for the attention of an uncaring universe.  When that did nothing for him, he wound down, gasping for breath, chest heaving.  I could almost hear the grinding gears of his mind dredging up a plan to kill me so he could hobble off and lick his wounds.

I glared back.  “What’s your clan?”  I waited a few seconds.  Nothing. 

So stupid
.

I shot him in his right kneecap as he tried lunging at me.  For extra emphasis, I jumped forward and kicked him in the chest before he could get his good leg under him to hop away.  The
recoil of the kick pushed me back where I’d come from.  Landing, I shot the giant in the other knee.  His hazel
skin paled to a latte color.  Spurting mud, mire gathering around his feet.

I admired the smooth action of my automatic, how its rotating barrel system bled off part of the recoil, reducing the time I needed between shots.  Also, my fine-tip tungsten bullets worked better than I’d thought they would.  Both of his knees were mangled ruin.  Had I used a softer metal, it would only have bruised him.

“Next round goes to your shoulder.  So, why are you here?”

We locked eyes.  I pointed my gun and started to pull the trigger when he spoke, a thick, bass voice common among giants.  “We came to hunt.”  He smiled with sharp-filed, yellow teeth that I’d never seen in a mountain giant.  “We will keep coming, and coming—”

“Did I ask you about your sexual habits?”

The giant looked confused.  Not surprising—his kind weren’t known for intelligence, but for anger directed at the weak and vulnerable.  Fuck, I’d be angry, too, if I was ten feet tall but hung like a little kid.

His gravel voice rasped, “I will call my clan and you will pay for this, human.”

I’m not completely human.  He’d know that if his nose wasn’t as stunted as his brain.

My phone rang.  I shot him in the shoulder as I promised.  “Shut up, I need to get this.”

I fished my phone from a pocket, taking another few steps back in case the giant tried anything while he thought I was distracted.  “Caine here.”

“Yes, Lord Caine, this is Prince Drustan of the Arden Clan.  My father wants to know when we can expect the giant to be removed from our lands.”

“I’m almost done with him.  I’ll drop what’s left at one of your villages on my way to L.A.  You can go ahead and send the bonus to my home.”  I’d already taken the main fee up front.  My contract called for a separate bonus for early completion of the job, within twenty-four hours.

He said, “It will be done.”

Of course, few clients renege on a demon contract.  That usually produces a high body count.

I hung up the phone.

About to be launched my way, the giant’s good arm jerked with a big rock in his meaty fist. 

I pulled the trigger, emptying my magazine.  One slug deflected the rock as it left his hand.  Two dug into his arm and shoulder.  Pockmarks from entry wounds opened across the giant’s face as well.  His body went limp as he fell over.  His bowels released, fertilizing the forest he’d been raping. 

Unpoetic justice?
 

A leather scroll—spelled to look like a layer of stone on his left arm—detached and fell to the ground.  Curious, I picked it up and put it inside my jacket.  I then kicked the giant in his yellow teeth, still needing to drag his fugly ass back to the client as proof of service. 

Such an inconvenience.
 

I’d never tried to pick up anything as heavy as a mountain giant, but knew I’d manage.  Since becoming a lord Under-the-Hill in Fairy seven months ago, I’d acquired a great deal of raw magic I could tap, even here in the human world
. 
I grabbed the giant by the heels, turning so his body was behind me, his feet over my shoulders.  I dragged the body back downhill, heading the way we’d come. 

Unexpected pain shot up my spine—like someone was splitting me open.  My eyeballs hurt as my
Dragon Sight
tattoo
kicked in.  I looked back and saw the hazel glow of the giant’s weak magic, still active despite his death.  My aura was more dominant: a crimson blaze with gold flakes whirling off me like sparks from a forge.  His death-magic had tried to avenge him, ripping out my heart, but I was stronger.  The first wave of pain faded, leaving no damage.

I wouldn’t have had to deal with the giant’s death-magic, but last summer, when the dragon half of my DNA first started to manifest, my dragon blood tattoos had faded, along with the spells they activated.  They’d all come back, except for the automatic protective shield.  Sadly, that was gone forever.  But since I could
now—sometimes—turn into a golden dragon spitting lightning, I didn’t mind the tradeoff too much.  I did want to know though how to throw that switch.

The last of the dead giant’s magic gave it an all-or-nothing shot: it felt like molten lava was crawling up my legs, burning every nerve ending.  I was driven to my knees
and almost lost my grip on the giant’s ankles.  I felt the attack slacking as my restored tattoos soaked up the pain—transmuting it into intoxicating power. 

I stood and ran—stepping on stones whenever possible to give myself the best footing—and soon returned to the trail.  Twilight was sweeping in, so there was less chance of being seen.  There was always the chance that a bigger giant might have followed the first.  Should such a monster appear, I’d just use my
Demon Wings
tattoos to avoid it.  I don’t work for free.

Moving at high speeds through the thickening forest, the giant’s body kept catching on rocks and brush at the edge of the trail
.  The smell of the dead creature proved distracting.  Fortunately, the smell of pine and sage helped me focused on the path.

I came to a lightning-blasted tree at a bend in the path.  Most humans couldn’t see it, but this marked a magical trail that climbed straight up-hill toward an Arden holding.  The forest clan didn’t want just anyone tripping over their hidey-holes, finding their tree villages.  The mountain
giant wagged behind me, the most hideous cape in the world.  I jumped a couple boulders in a single bound, keeping my knees bent.   Landing on loose dirt, my boots dug in.  I shot forward, leaving well-spaced tracks in passing.