Demon Lord 4: White Jade Reaper (5 page)

A new voice cut across the tension, a hard female voice that was all sassy threat.  “Or I’ll take all you boys out to the woodshed and drive stakes where the sun don’t shine.”

I looked at the speaker and believed her, my cock hardening in anticipation of doing anything with this Nordic bombshell.  Madison stood tall, proud, her C-cups tits begging to be groped.  Her dangerous curves were sheathed in black leather pants, a cut off black tee that showed off chiseled abs, and a leather coat.  Boots, gloves, and wooden knives—strapped everywhere—completed her look.  Her take-no-prisoners attitude reminded me of my ex-slayer minion Vivian who I’d left in L.A. 

The swollen monster in my pants sang out, a voice only I could hear. 
Oh, Honey, do I have a stake for you.

I distracted the waitress by throwing money at her for the food, including a healthy tip.  As I returned my attention to the crowd around the table, Grace stood, her face set, her antennae bobbing, almost mesmerizing the waitress.  Grace used her pointer finger, first on Fenn, then on Onyx, driving home her words.  “You guys are staying here.  I’m not taking my personal life on the road.  I mean it.  If I see either one of you in Santa Fe, you will be off my date list for the next six months—and I’ll sic Tukka on you.”

Fenn dropped his voice with a no-nonsense tone.  “Look, Grace, I’ve had your back for a while now.  That’s helped keep you safe.  That’s all I want to do.”

Onyx nodded.  “Goes for me, too.”

Madison said, “A real woman keeps herself safe.  Depending on men is chancy.”

I muttered, “I am woman, hear me roar.”

Madison shot me a suspicious glance.  What was that?”

I smiled at her and lied.  “I said, ‘Let’s take this out the door.”

“Fine.”  Cassie led the way out.  We straggled along behind her. 

Once outside, Grace rounded on her two suitors.  “I’m putting my sneakered foot down.”

“Cute laces,” Madison said.  “I like watermelon colors.”

Grace glared at Fenn and Onyx.  “Do what I say.  I don’t want to see either of you until I get back.  If you don’t respect me, you can’t date me.  I have spoken.”

“Ooh-rah!” I said.

Grace kissed her mom, hugging her.  “I’ll call and keep you informed.”

She smiled.  “See that you do.”

Fenn stepped in my way, staring down on me.  “I’m leaving Grace to you because Cassie is okay with that.”  He softened his tone.  “Please take good care of her, and I’ll own you one.”

Hmmm.  That sounded interesting.  Fenn probably had little I needed, but his old man was the Trickster.  There might come a day when I might need an in with such a powerful entity.  I offered my hand.  We shook, and I used my other hand to grip his arm, staring earnestly into his face.  “You can count on me … now that we have a contract.”

His feral grin met my own.  We men had an understanding.

Breaking away, I headed for my car, noticing that Onyx had vanished into the shadows.  Cassie strolled away without a look back.  Grace and Madison followed me to my Shelby Mustang.  “Shotgun!” Grace called.

“You don’t have a shotgun,” Madison said.

“There’s one in the trunk if we need it,” I said.

“A man after my own heart,” Madison said.

And everything else.
  I let her know my thoughts by the possessive heat in my stare.

She looked intrigued for a moment, before remembering she was supposed to be the chaperone.  Cold professionalism obliterated her show of emotion.

I used my remote to unlock the doors.  Madison slid into the back.  Grace took the front passenger seat.  They dutifully buckled in.  I paused with my door open, staring at the top of the car, at the black paint job.  I whispered.  “I know that’s you, Onyx.  I don’t mind if you hitch a ride, but not for free.”

I waited, wondering if my guess was accurate.  After a moment, a black diamond oozed up out of the roof.  Smiling with satisfaction, I picked up the stone and put it in my pocket.  That business out of the way, I slid into the car, slammed the door shut, buckling up, and activating the biometric sensor that allowed only me to drive this vehicle.  The engine roared to life.  I backed out, drove to the street, and pulled out into light traffic.  Guiding us west, the sun blazed low on the horizon with darkness seeping in everywhere else, an omen of carnage, of flame, and death.  That made me happy.

FIVE

“Women hate desperation that’s not their own.”

                                 —Cain Deathwalker

I drove through the night, taking a route past small cow-towns until hitting Amarillo.  I saw its skyscrapers from a distance, nothing like those we have in L.A.  I wasn’t impressed.  I was tired.  Eight hours had passed and we had another four ahead of us.  The girls were asleep as I pulled off the highway for gas and an espresso.  I parked by a pump and opened my door. 

Grace stirred next to me, her voice sleepy.  “Waz-up?”

“Gas and fuel.  Want something?”

“Nachos, and an orange soda,” Grace said.

“Beef jerky,” Madison called from the back seat.  “Lots and lots of beef jerky.”  Her eyes were on mine through the rearview mirror.  The way she was saying beef jerky left a lot unsaid, especially when she batted her eyes coyly—an out-of-character ploy. 

I said.  “You’ll take what I get you and like it.” 

“Ooooo.” She smiled.  “Tough guy.”

“You got no idea.”  I slid out the car door and heard the girls giggling to each other as I cut off the sound by slamming the door.  Madison was an amateur tease.  Slayer-in-training or not, she was playing with fire.  I was one hard-on away from dragging her to the restroom and bouncing her on my joystick.

Inside the store, between the nacho dispenser and the fountain drinks, I pulled out my phone.  It was time to check in with my second client.  Being a vampire, he’d not be irritated by a three-in-the-morning phone call.  The call went through.  No greeting followed, no “Hello, how are you?” or “What can I do for you?”  Just silence.  He was waiting for me to speak and identify myself first.  The arrogant prick was unsure if he needed to waste words on me. 

I said, “Hey, Count Chocula, you there?”

“Caine?  Are you there yet?”  The voice was deep, theatrical, and smooth as well-aged oak barrel whiskey.

“Not quite,” I said.  “I’m on the road.  It will be another four hours.”

There was a pause for consideration.  He said, “You know, with what I’m paying you, you could have flown in.”

“I could have done a lot of things to draw unwanted attention.  Popping up on computer screens, there are certain names that grab the attention of the Federal Preternatural Response Organization, sending them into a slavering frenzy.”

“Really?  I thought that was just me.”

“Don’t waste my time,” I said.

He sighed.  “I give you a lot of leeway because they tell me you’re good at … retrieving … things that fall into the wrong hands.”

“I’m good at a lot more than that.  Don’t worry; you’ll get your coffin back.”

“I hope so.  It was my first and has sentimental value, as well as a plasma-stocked mini-bar.  Remember, I don’t want you to harm the current owner.  I reserve that sacred privilege to myself.”

“Understood.  It will be past dawn when we get in, so I’ll touch base again tomorrow night.”

“We?”

His spies would tell him soon enough.  “I’m travelling with a couple of young women.” 

“Ah, I understand; men have needs, and strong men take what they want.” 

Warning bells went off in the back of my head.  “They’re under my protection.  You can get your own eye-candy.”

A long pause...  “Few dare speak to me the way you do.”

“You may be a legend among your kind,” I said, “but you only play at being a dragon.”  The
Drac in Dracula was Latin for dragon actually.  “
I’m the real thing.  Sure, I’ve never nailed men’s hat to their head, or crucified thousands of my enemies for shits and giggles, but that’s just because it’s already been done, Old Timer.”

He laughed at my audacity, a rolling sound, rich and echoing.  “As long as you deliver, I shall not have to learn new tricks—and try them out on you.”

“One more thing, blood-sucker...”  By then, I’d finished adding the cheese and chili to a boatload of round corn chips and was pressing down the plastic cover. 

“Yes?” he said.

“In addition to my fee, I’m going to need an autographed picture.”

“So, you are not as impervious to my celebrity as you pretend.”

“Just have the picture sent to my clan house.”  I hung up on him and put my phone away. 
Yeah, I want a signed picture.  It’ll go for a fortune on the dark web.  Some trust-fund teen vamp or leprechaun-eating bog beast will snap it up.

Someone cleared their throat behind me.  I hadn’t lost focus on my surroundings, so I knew the person had to be able to move with total stealth, much like me.  “What do you want, Onyx?”

I turned and saw I’d guessed right.  The shadow man stood there, his pale face adrift in his black mane of hair.  His gray crystal eyes reflected no emotion, as empty as his soul.  “Buy me something, too.”

“Not likely.”

“I heard your conversation.”

“So?”  I strolled over to the refrigerator section and picked out a couple bottles of soda.  I dumped them in Onyx’s arms, along with the nachos.  “Here, hold these.  You might as well make yourself useful.”

Absently, he clutched everything.  “I like that you stood up for the girls.  Who were you speaking to?”

“A second client that I can handle on my own.  Grace is only along to deal with the ghostly end of things.”

“If you mention your client is a vampire, Madison will want

to kill him for extra-curricular credit.  And because of friendship, Grace will get sucked into things, too.”

“What they don’t know, won’t get them killed.”

Onyx smiled.  “I like the way you think.”

“Flatter me all you want, but your food is still on you.”  I went and got the beef sticks and my espresso, winding up at the register with Onyx.

The cashier stared at him.  “When did you come in the store?”

I distracted the cashier by handing him cash.  He rang up my sales, and bagged everything.  “Put the change on pump six,” I said.

As I picked up my purchases, he nodded and complied.  In that moment of inattention, Onyx collapsed his physical form, becoming a pool of gloom on the floor under my feet.  Facing me again, the cashier stared.  He looked around for Onyx.  “Hey, where did your friend go?”

I looked at him like he was crazy.  “Friend?  I came in alone.  You need to get off the night shift.”  I walked to the exit and went out, the shadow pool underfoot, sliding along to keep me company.  As I reached the car, Onyx flowed up its surface, adding another layer to the paint job.  I handed the supplies in through the window to Grace.

“Thanks,” she said.

“No problem.”  I went on to gas up the vehicle, and settle behind the wheel.  With a roar, we surged off, driving onto the highway.  Grace handed me my espresso.  I nodded my thanks, having adopted the fey practice of not using the actual words, which might imply a debt I’d have to repay.  As a new lord in fairy, I had to get used to watching small stuff like that.

“Caine?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you really what my mom called you?”

“A man-whore?”

Madison sputtered on her soda, coughing in the backseat.

“No,” I said.  “Whores get paid.  The more technically accurate term would be man-slut, but that implies I don’t have standards.  I do.  I won’t sleep with an ugly woman, unless she wears a bag over her head and has less than three percent body fat.”

“Seriously,” Madison said, “a paper bag?”

“Beauty is always a light switch away.”

“Damn!” Grace said.  “Knowing you is proving educational.  I mean, I’d always heard men could be trough-feeding oinkers, but…

“I make no excuse,” I said.  “Life’s too short to settle for less than a decent fuck.”

I listened to Madison chomping furiously on her beef sticks as the miles passed.  At one point, she asked, “Want me to drive for a while?  I have my license.”

“No thanks.  You might be tempted to touch up your makeup while driving and we’d all die in a tragic accident.  It’s safer this way.”

She muttered, “You do remember I’m heavily armed and right behind you, right?”

I smiled, checking on her in the rearview mirror.  “You do remember that if I lose control of the car, it’s not just you that will die, but Grace, too?”

Madison snarled.  “Oh, bite me!”

“Be careful what you offer.  I just might, and on a body part of my own choosing.”

Grace commented around a bite of nachos, “Jeez, get a room, you guys.”

They finished their food and drink, and returned to sleep as I piloted us through the darkness, with little else on the highway.   The surrounding hill country was cold, barren, and arid, which only got worse as we crossed the state line into New Mexico.  A sign sporting chili peppers for decoration informed me that this was the “Land of Enchantment.”  Not necessarily a good thing.  If an old crone showed up handing out apples, I was capping her witchy ass.  The same held true for Chupacabras; Illegal border-crossing preternaturals need to be shot on sight on general principle.  Invading a country is an act of war.

To entertain myself as the miles passed, I mentally put

Madison on a stage so she could pole dance.  Her stakes fell in a rain around her, followed by knives and glass vials of holy water.  Her clothes followed.  Perky tits defied gravity as she grabbed the pole and hung upside down while spinning around it.  I had her in lacy-black thong panties—ass checks on full display—when a police and federal immigration coalition appeared alongside the road.  There were tents, batteries of lights, and drug-sniffing dogs.

Over three-hundred miles from the Mexican border?  I don’t have time for this illegal crap.  These people seriously need to go read the fourth amendment to the Constitution.

I activated my
Demon Wings
tattoo on my upper back.  The cost in magic was paid for in pain that felt like a dozen swords were running me through, making a porcupine of me.  The phantom sensation thinned away, and I pushed the magic to its limits, covering the entire car.  I barreled through the gauntlet, barely missing two officers in the way who spun in surprise, unable to see what had just missed turning them into pork patties.

Try to violate my privacy rights, will you?

I left the illegal-data-collection point in my dust, racing on.  A half-mile down the highway, I allowed my You-Don’t-See-Me spell to lapse.  Soon, the gray-tones in the sky told me I was getting close to Santa Fe.   Sunrise would be here soon, then the city limits.  Tiredness had settled deep in my bones.  I decided to find a hotel and catch up on my sleep.  Most preternatural business doesn’t really get settled until nightfall anyway.

I left the highway where a sign stabbed the sky: the Quackalope Inn.  This variance of the jackalope myth tugged at my sense of fancy; I had an image of a duck with antlers in mind.  I pulled into the paved parking lot and easily found a spot near the office.  The place had about forty rooms spread over two stories.  The building was adobe, a butterscotch color.  The curtains shielding the office were chocolate brown, which made me wonder what Tukka was up to. 

As I got out, the girls stirred.  Turning back to stick my head in the Mustang, I said, “Get your things and mine.  We’re checking in.”  I went on without them, strolling over to the office door.  It was unlocked.  I went in, stood by the desk, and looked around.  There were a few leatherette chairs, some vending machines, and nobody waiting to check me in.  I hit the bell on the counter and waited, my eyes drawn to a mallard on a wooden plaque stuck up on the wall.  The duck had stubby antelope horns attached.  If the thing had been alive, I didn’t see how it could waddle around and lift up a head that heavy.  It certainly didn’t have the neck muscles for it.

A curtain to a back hallway rippled open and a two-hundred pound granny appeared with blue hair and reading glasses perched on her nose.  Her lipstick was violently red, and her blue eyeliner rather heavy.  The orange and green top she wore seared my eyes.  I almost drew my Berretta Storm to shoot her in self-defense.  Really, what jury would have blamed me? 

She turned a registration book around and pointed at the blue pen nestled in the valley made by the spine.  “Sign here.  That’ll be sixty-nine dollars a night.  Cash up front.”

“I’ll need a room with two beds, got my friends with me.”

“That’ll be extra.”

“I figured as much.”  I threw down a hundred.  “Keep the change.”

She snapped it up and handed me a key for a room on the second floor.

I took the key and pointed up at the Quackalope.  “What’s the story on that?”

“We used to have a Jackalope, but some asshole stole it.”

I tried to remember if I’d been through her before in a drunken haze.

She said, “I got this replacement from an Injun at the annual Injun Fair, cheap.  Kinda cool, huh?”

“It’s different; I like different.”

I headed out and found the girls waiting for me.  “This way.”  I went up a flight of stairs, to our room, and unlocked the door.  Inside was rustic, rough-hewn wooden furniture, earth-tone colors, an Indian horse blanket on each of the beds.  A TV was mounted on a shelf, high on one wall.  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a non-flat screen like that.  An open door revealed a darkened bathroom.  A coffee table had a kachina doll on it, frozen with one foot in the air, caught mid-dance.  I looked closer.  It was cheap, painted foam.  I wondered if he’d start dancing when no one was looking.  I decided not to worry about it since I’d be sleeping with one gun under my pillow.  The girls shut the door.