Demon Lord 4: White Jade Reaper (2 page)

My enchanted voice rolled out.  “Sit down.”

He sat exactly where he’d stood.

I noticed the semi-pretty bartender had slipped away, heading for the back door, dragging the underage girls along with her.  Shooing along the dancers from the bar.  I let them go.  That good deed would help balance the scales of karma.

One of the last bikers, with a drunken slur to his voice, called out, “Fuck you, cocksucker, your fucking with the Demon

Lords.  You think you’re going to get away with this?” 

I looked that way, grinning.  “Yeah?  Take a long look at me.  This is what a real demon lord looks like.”  I’d been using the dragon magic of my tats.  I let go of that and called on the shadow magic the Old Man had been teaching me.  Like writhing ghosts, bloody shadows shot out from under me to envelope the whole bar in a deep crimson blanket.  The blue aquarium lights shattered.  The remaining light came from things and people on fire, and the neon beer signs in the windows. 

I felt a stirring in the back shadows of my mind as my inner dragon stirred and yawned awake.  His immediate interest in the surrounding carnage flushed me with more of his power.  My body shimmered with golden light.  Little jags of golden lightning crackled over my skin and clothing.  I paid the same price of pain for all my magic.  It felt like strips of skin were being peeled off me from waist to neck.  The pain faded and the raw arcs of golden lightning were thickening, growing larger.

I pointed my left hand at the mouthy drunk.  A blast of gold energy exploded the table over him, and took his head off.  The corpse grounded the charge.  Its feet blew off.  The floor caught on fire.  “There, that’s better,” I said.

I turned to see Fat-Ass on his hands and knees looking up at me.  “My lord Satan, I’m sorry for making you mad.  We your children should have known you when you entered and honored you.  Please don’t kill me.”

I grabbed the Fat-Ass by the neck. 

He screamed.  Yellow curls of energy burned his beard.  His skin blackened and went crisp.  His eyes popped out of socket, steamed instantly as he died.  I released old limp dick and kicked him away.

“The next one to call me by that name will die in a less pleasant manner.”

Silence fell in the room.

I nodded. “Good.”

My red shadows on the walls leaped toward the surviving bikers, stabbing them through their hearts, expanding, ripping them to pieces. I pulled in my shadows.  They fell to the floor and slithered back to my feet.  I walked over to the burning front door and kick it open.  Fresh night air swept in to feed the fires. 

I went to my car and rummaged around in the trunk.  I found my Berretta PX4s and reloaded them with incendiary rounds.  I put a bullet through most of the gas tanks.  Faithful servants, the bikes followed their masters to hell.  I studied my work from the side of my Mustang, the driver’s door open next to me.  “That should hold me for a while.”

TWO

“Two-ton fu dogs are an acquired taste.”

                               —Caine Deathwalker

I’d paid off the attendants so we had this wing of the health club to ourselves.  Tukka, the two-ton fu dog over by the wall, had stepped out of a dream to join us.  Neat trick really.  He looked like those little curly-haired lion-dog statues you see at some Chinese restaurants, but the size of a rhino.  He stretched out and napped, but every now and then an enormous eye would crack open so he could check on Grace.  Apparently, she was an honorary member of his pack and highly valued despite her rather flat chest.  Of course, as a dedicated runner, she had buns and thighs of steel, not to mention quick reflexes; I wasn’t totally bored.

Her voice snapped out with an edge, all crisp with dramatic tension.  “Summoning her chi, becoming one with the primal forces of the universe, wily Ninja Girl circles her foe.  Little does he know she has mastered the Artic Fox Paw of Icy Doom.”

I knew she hoped to become a writer, but this sudden self-narration felt more like she was trying to psych me out.  Like that could work on me. 

I circled left, weaponless except for my magic tattoos.  They lay dormant on my skin under the black cotton chinos and blood-red tee.  My good clothes were in the trunk of the Mustang.  I’d dressed down for a friendly practice match.  “Just a little training,” she’d said.  She reminded me of Julia, looking up to me with stardust in her eyes.  Oddly, I wound up showing her a sanitized side that wasn’t part of the real me. 

Probably for the best since I want to recruit her.  Can’t

scare her off from the start.

She wore hunter-green sweats, and black sneakers, one shoe with lime green laces, the other watermelon pink.  Dark red hair dangled down her back in a ponytail.  Her sharp, seventeen-year-old face was pale and triangular, her eyes yellow as butter amber.  Added since I’d last been in this area, the feathery, pale gray antennae bobbing from her forehead were new, as were the baby moth wings poking out slits cut in the back of her top.  They fluttered now and then, a quiet
whup-whup
.

My heightened sense of smell identified her as mainly kitsune fox spirit though she didn’t look the slightest bit Japanese.  Her DNA had been muddled with an infusion of mothman genes, and there was something else, not so much a smell as a suppression of scent so that what I
did
smell was weaker than normal.  Something in her really didn’t want to come out and show itself.  I wondered if she were part fey.  She’d already shown me one move—vanishing and reappearing—that might indicate magic.

Relaxed now, almost limp on her feet, she moved a few steps, back-tracked a step, and returned to circling.  I expected her eyes to stay on mine, or to lock onto my hands and feet as I moved, throwing a few fake punches, but she stared through my center of balance, using peripheral vision to pick up on all my feints.

She spun and slapped at my face with the instep of a foot.  The foot in the high kick dropped to the carpet.  She shifted weight to the planted foot, turning so the heel of the other foot hooked toward my head.  I dodged.  Her spin brought her around once more.  From her new position she grounded the knee closest to me and spun on it, slashing at the back of my legs with the calf of her other leg.  Kick, kick, leg sweep—it was an interesting combo. 

I hopped over the sweep and kicked into the next kick coming in.  None of what she was doing was getting through, but her fluidness, and conservation of movement was excellent.  Someone had taught her enough Kung Fu to be dangerous. 

“Undaunted, our intrepid heroine presses on with her

unrelenting attack.”

I wasn’t having much trouble; she’d only gotten close with one kick by cheating.  I’d let her take an aggressive lead, looking for her subconscious tells.  Her
major
give-away
turned out to be a faint half-smile. 

And there it is—gotcha!

From one step to the next, she vanished.  I jumped to where she’d been standing, spinning to face the way I’d come.  She became visible again, balanced on one foot, her other a lunging kick leading in, trying to take my head off.  I stepped diagonally to slide the power of her kick.  A right-handed back-fist and a stiffened arm guided her safely past, but kept her in range of my counterattack.  I grabbed her shoulder to slow her motion while kicking the back of her knee that supported her weight.  Momentum dragged her past me.  She collapsed onto her butt, one leg folded under her, the other stuck up in the air.

She landed several feet away, looking up at me from the floor, a scowl on her face.  “I don’t know what you did, but you cheated.  I should have had you cold.”

“That trick had a chance to nail me the first time.  Trying it twice is not only lazy, but stupid.”  I walked over and extended a hand.  “Fancy tricks don’t replace skill.”

She smiled fully, taking my hand.  “I bet Shaun could take you.”

“You really want to throw your money away?”

I’d heard a lot about the legendary Shaun since dragging her away from the Van Helsing School for Gifted Slayers.  Apparently, she’d just switched schools from a government think-tank operation, to an academy obsessed with the killing of vampires. 

And where she went, Tukka went.  I pulled her to her feet and looked around the carpeted yoga room.  Her mom had bought her a gym membership here in Marshall, Texas because she had a habit of attracting preternatural threats.  They came at her like bears to a honeycomb, or fu dogs to chocolate.  “Where did Tukka go,” I asked.

She looked around, too.  “He was here a minute ago.  You

don’t think…”

I pulled away from her, heading for the hallway door.  There were vending machines outside full of healthy choices.  Without pockets for money, or a thumb to put coins in the machine, his only chance at chocolate was to crush the machine and take what he wanted.  I hadn’t heard sounds of destruction, but that could be moments away, even though the closest he’d come to his goal was the chocolate chips in granola bars. 

Grace and I had talked; I understood it wouldn’t be Tukka’s first time abusing vending machines.  I’m not normally adverse to a little larceny, but I don’t need attention drawn to me.  The last time I was in Texas, I’d put a bullet through someone’s head.  There might be people, or things, still around, holding a grudge.

I stepped out into the hall. 

Staring at the fu dog in wide-eyed adoration, a ten-year-old girl fed money into a machine.  “Whatcha want, puppy?”

Puppy, really?  Maybe she’s a bit slow.

He saw me staring and snapped his face back to the girl.  His telepathic voice boomed as he answered the little girl. 
No, no,
y
ou buy goodie for you.  Tukka fine.  Not need any of that rotten old chocolate.

Grace came out, moving past me like a runaway train, her antennae bobbing from her forehead like miniature feather dusters.  Her voice spiked the air.  “Tukka, you mooch!  You traitor!  Leaving me for a younger woman.”

The little girl dropped her money into the vending machine and pulled her hand back.  She said, “No, it’s not like that.  We’re only friends.”  Her stare shot to Grace’s antennae.  Her mouth fell open.

“Since when?” Grace demanded.

Tukka just want, uh, apple slices, Grace.  Hungry.

No one believed that except for the ten-year old.  Still staring at Grace, the girl pressed the button for the apple slices.  A coil moved behind the glass.  The bag dropped.  Finally breaking her stare, the girl reached down and drew the bag out.  She offered the apple slices to Tukka. 

He didn’t move a muscle.

“Well, what are you waiting on?”  Grace’s voice went sugary sweet.  “I thought you were hungry.  Oooo, yummy, yummy apples!”

Might not be safe.  Might not be organically grown.

I rolled my eyes, and would have kicking the fu dog in the ass if I thought he’d have even felt it.

Grace said, “And it might not be what you were really after.  Come, along, Goof-ball, you know you aren’t supposed to let humans see you.”

Tukka stared at the girl as if she might go running off to the TV stations. 
You not tell on Grace and Tukka, right.  Friends keep secrets.

I smiled at him.  “The only thing you wanted to be friends with was her money.  Congratulations, you’ve just joined the ranks of low-life evil scum like me.”

No!  Tukka just weak.  Been so long…

Grace sighed and attempted to wrap arms around the behemoth.  “I know.  It’s tough going cold turkey.  But you know you can’t handle chocolate.  You know what happened last time.”

Tukka sorry.

The girl stared at Grace’s back where her wings fluttered, as if the antennae weren’t clue enough.  She screamed, “You’re a fairy!  I want three wishes.”

Grace put hands on hips.  “One wish, union rules.  What do you want?”

I silently laughed at that.
If they knew what a real wish-making fairy looked like, neither would ever sleep again.

The girl said, “I want to be a ballerina.”

Grace held out her hand, to the girl and to me.  The girl snatched at Grace’s hand.  Not being the trusting sort, I didn’t offer mine.  Grace grabbed my arm.  There was an electric tingle in the air.  Gravity dipped like we’d stepped over to Mars.  Color drained out of the hallway.  I looked at Grace.  “What did you do?”

“I crossed us over.  This is the world of ghosts and demons.  These are the shadows where I dance.”

I was the heir to a demon clan in L.A., not the evil spirit kind

of demon where you need to hijack bodies like in the
Exorcist
.  My clan had its origins in prehistoric hell-gates, in “demons” from assorted hell dimensions.  The demons Grace dealt with all came from here, a dimension native to Earth, just out of reach to ordinary mortals—until they die.  Her demons were the immortal, fallen-angel type, a species I’d had no contact with.  I hoped to keep it that way.  Messing with true evil required I got paid for it.  A lot.

That Grace felt she needed to keep touching us meant something.  My raw magic stirred as she flushed my body with her aura.  I pulled up golden energy, hazing myself, letting it pour out while picturing my body awash with zero gravity.  All of that compressed into a flash memory, I returned Grace’s energy to her.  Stepping back, I broke her hold.

She stared.  “You’re still here.  You didn’t
cross back
.”

I shrugged.  “Now that you’ve brought me over, I can stay until I shut down the trickle of my magic, right?”

“It’s not magic for me, but lifeforce, but for you, yeah, I guess that’s how it works,” she said.

The little girl said.  “So, am I going to be a ballerina or what?”

“Hang onto my hand,” Grace said.  She jumped, and floated up to the ceiling, not stopping there, but ghosting through it like a, well, ghost.  The girl was pulled through.  They vanished, then returned, settling slowly through the air.  The girl bent her legs and jumped on her own.  She went up a wall, through the wall, and into the yoga room.  Hand in hand, Grace went with her.  I tried walking through the wall and found I could do it too, at a cost of a small amount of energy.  Inside the room, Grace and the girl danced, spinning around each other, laughing. 

I watched them cavort a while, then cleared my throat.  “The girl’s parents will probably come looking for her soon.  Let’s not get mistaken for kidnappers or Persons of Interest, okay?”

“Okay.”  Grace smiled at the girl.  “You got to be a ballerina.  Study hard and you might make it on your own next time.”

The girl squealed.  “I will, I will!”

Grace let go of the girl’s hand.  Nothing seemed to happen, except the girl spun around, looking everywhere.  Her lips moved as she called out, but we couldn’t hear her from the ghost realm.  After a moment, the girl ran from the room with a fantastic tale she might, or might not tell.

I pulled in my energy, quieting the radiance of my raw magic.  And color returned to the world. 

Gravity amped up to its normal level.  I was out of the ghost realm.  A moment later, Grace faded in beside me.

Grace said, “Well, I guess I got my workout.”

“Good.  I want to hit the road.”

“I still haven’t said I’m coming.”

I gave her my cold, dead stare and applied a little emotional blackmail.  “When you needed a diversion, I started a barroom brawl for you in that Texas nightclub, remember?  You’re saying you’re not going to help me out in return?  I thought you were better than that, oh, heroine of love and justice.”

“It’s just that I have to get Van Helsing’s permission first, and he probably won’t let me go alone.”

“Who’s alone?  You got that over-grown Chia Pet of yours.”

“I have a lot of school work, too.  What do you need me for anyway?”

“I’ve read the PRT file on you.”

“That’s supposed to be classified.”

“Well, your mom left a copy laying around in one of her safe houses.  It says you’re an expert on ghostly phenomenon.  I’m great at stomping most supernaturals, but ghosts aren’t really my thing.  And the reports say you can deal with them on their own turf.  Now that I’ve seen exactly what that means, I want you on this Santa Fe job as a consultant even more.”