Demon Lord 5: Silver Crown King (15 page)

FIFTEEN

“Besides murder and mayhem, the best

way to solve a problem is Margaritas.

                                            —Caine Deathwalker

Without my entourage, I was back at the Malibu mansion, wearing a change of clothes, and a magic amulet from Gloria that I’d soon put to good use.  I’d sent word to Red that I wanted his advice on what kind of tattoo might best suit Julia, and did he have someone he wanted to recommend for the ink work? 

Talk about needling someone… 

That I would get an outsider to ink someone who’d been under his care, someone he thought of as family, and not let him do it—that was designed to eat him on both a personal and professional level.  That I was (apparently) letting a minor have a tattoo, again without consulting him, was salt in the wound. 

He’d resisted coming over and making peace for much longer than I’d thought possible, so playtime was over.   The brass knuckles were coming out.

In the back of my mind, my inner dragon was singing in his sleep;
Under Pressure
by Queen.   Angie sat on a barstool across from me.  She smelled very clean.  She’d taken numerous showers today, more were probably planned.  Her wolves didn’t need her underfoot just now, they were relocating in mass to Izumi’s house next door.  She’d be with me in Fairy soon, and didn’t mind if they hung out, so long as they didn’t break anything.

Angie’s eyes were dark with remembered pain, haunted.  Her arms were crossed defensively in front of her as she stared at the items collected on the bar: a box of flexi-straws, seven glasses, bottles of silver tequila, orange flavored liqueur, and lavender simple syrup.  I added a shallow bowl of sugar, a bottle of lime juice, and dried lavender. 

My actions finally drew her out a little.  “Seven glasses?  There are only three of us here.”

I looked past Angie, at the wingback chairs by the fireplace.  Megan sat there, her lovely legs crossed, her top foot bouncing a little in the air.  She looked hot as hell in a flame-red mini-dress with translucent red-silk sleeves that balanced the bright gold hair tucked into a chignon in back of her head.  Her eyes were currently antique gold, like her many bracelets. 

My bodyguard wore many offensive charms and defensive wards, though not quite as many as Kinsey whom she was impersonating.  One of those charms altered her scent so she smelled like a real golden dragon with a hint of ozone thrown in as if lightning were about to be summoned.

Megan’s demon sword lay on a nearby coffee table.  Its sheath and straps were black. 

There was a blue-steel buckle and several throwing stars on the belt.  This was not the basket-style rapier Kinsey favored, but the impersonation was still very good considering Megan had only seen my cousin once at the ice cream store. 

I pulled my attention back to Angie, grinning as I answered her question.  “I’ve fallen way behind in my drinking so I’ve got to make up for lost time.  Besides, I expect Red to come bursting in here at any time, having worked himself into a towering rage.  He’ll be thirsty, especially if he’s breathing fire.”

“Maybe I should clear out,” Angie said.

“And miss the show?”  I took the top off my Darth Vader shaker.  Combining the liquid ingredients, I let the drink sit.  Adding the dried lavender to the sugar, I applied the dry mixture to rim the glasses.   Clinking ice went into the glasses.  I picked up the shaker and vigorously shook it.  Finally, I strained the shaker’s contents and filled the glasses.  “There.  All we need now is our guest of honor.”

A roar sounded outside, above the roof.  It rattled the windows.

I nodded with satisfaction.  “And there he is!”

Angie looked up at the ceiling, cringing as if expecting it to drop on her head.  “He’s in dragon form?”

“Oh, he’ll turn human soon, if only to tell me to fuck myself in some anatomically impossible fashion.”  I slid a glass across the bar to her on a napkin.  “Here.   It really does help.”

She slid off her stool.  “I just remembered something urgent I have to go do.  I’ll leave this to you.”

I gestured at the glass.  “But your drink…”

Across the room, Megan stood and plucked up her sword, strapping it on without much of a hurry, her bracelets clinking.  A sultry smile stretched her lips.  She took a couple steps toward the bar.  I stopped her by lifting a palm in a “wait” gesture.

Angie said, “I’ll take it to go.”  She picked up the glass and went to the living room door. 

As she closed it behind her, I turned my gaze to the far wall where the multiple windows gave me a segmented view of a red-scaled dragon landing on the lawn.  The dragon swung its head so that a huge eye filled one window, peering in.  The dragon pulled back and roared, spewing fire that melted glass and incinerated the surrounding wood. 

I now had a flame-edged hole in my wall you could drive an eighteen wheeler through—or a dragon.  Red surged inside, splintering more of the wall, snuffing out the flames with his writhing body.  He trampled a couch, shattered a coffee table, and paused briefly to see the score of a soccer game on the monster-sized Plasma TV.  Curiosity assuaged, he turned his attention to me and trudged closer. 

His dragon magic shrunk him step by step until he reached the bar, fully human, wearing a dark red suit with a dusky violet V-neck tee underneath.  His long white hair indicated great age for a dragon.  His stony skin was hard as his scales in dragon form.  The frequent use of magic as a tattoo artist had turned his front and back vivid crimson.  His sides were jewel-bright bluish-green.  He could have spelled the pigmentation changes away, but didn’t bother.

The smell of smoke clung to him, dulling his olfactory senses, as he took a seat—oblivious to Megan lurking behind him.  He stared at me, trembling with fury. 

I slid a glass over to him, and picked one up for myself.

He stared at the glass in front of him.  “What the hell is that?”

“A lavender Margareta,” I said.

“It’s silver, not lavender,” he said.

I pulled a lavender-colored straw out of the box and stuck it in the drink.  “There.  Happy?”

He glared.  “Poison, I suppose?”

“If I wanted you dead, or incapacitated, I’d simply tell Aggie what happened on that last trip we took to Vegas.”

He blanched.  “You would, too.”

“Besides the obvious reasons, why am I the bad guy?” I asked.  “I didn’t abandon
you
on the battlefield.  I’m the one who went to you to make peace, and you wouldn’t even open the door.  We’ve been friends a long time.  Why do I have to use Julia to get your attention and make you man up?  I’ve got your ink all across my body, mixed with your blood.  Do you really want me to have someone else finish the work you’ve started?  Where’s your pride, man?”

He snarled, baring jagged, pointy teeth that weren’t quite human.  Red Fang looked at me with clear topaz eyes lacking irises or pupils.  “I’m man enough not to be your bitch.  You don’t get to push my buttons, and have me come running to your beck and call.”

I smiled, sipping my drink. 
And yet here you are
.

He leaned in over the bar.  “Where’s Julia?  She’s going back to Aggie with me.”

I lifted an eyebrow.  “Is she?”  I finished my drink, set the empty aside, and reached for
his
drink.  “If you’re not going to drink that, I’ll take it.”

“It’s too good for me?  That’s what you’re trying to say?”  He seized the drink I’d given him, fending my hand off. 

Being part dragon, I knew how to play on his possessive nature.  Even if he didn’t want the drink, he wasn’t going to give it to me. 
Not easily.
 
Not the dragon way
.   I picked up another of the drinks I’d made.  “Julia isn’t here.  She’s on a play-date with a friend.  I’ll let you know if I decide to give her back.  I’m not sure I want her raised by a dragon that can’t own up to his mistakes.  That wouldn’t be fair to her.”

“We’re her family.  What gives you the right to decide anything for her?”

“You adopted her into your clan without consulting me.  I never surrendered
my
parental claim on her, but you’re avoiding the issue at hand.”  I drained my glass and put it down.  “You wronged me.  I let you live anyway, and here you are spitting on my generosity.  No other golden dragon would have tolerated this.  We are either going to get past this ugliness, or I am going to have to kill you.”

“You think you’re dragon enough to do it.  Golden dragon my ass.  Fuck all you gold dragons anyway.”

Now I have you
. 

I shook my head sadly.  “Oh, Red, you have done it now.  You should have limited your insults to me, and not brought my family into it.”  I looked past him.  “Right, Cousin Kinsey?”

Red Fang slid off the stool, spinning to see Megan over by the fireplace.  “Who?”

“I told you, my Cousin Kinsey.  She’s with the Drake branch of the family.  They have a territory here in L.A.  I’m not hugely popular with them, so I can’t intervene on your behalf.  Sorry, Red.  You should call your elders and inform them that you’ve just started a clan war.”

Megan stomped closer, her face screwed into a display of rage.  “No need to let things get out of control.  We’ll settle this, here and now.”  Her hand went to the hilt of her demon sword.  Slowly, she let the blade scrape free of its scabbard.   “With a duel to the death.”

Red pointed at her weapon.  “That’s a demon sword!  How is that fair?”

She said, “I put no words in your mouth.  Prepare to have your soul devoured.”

“Don’t worry, Red.  I’ll see that Aggie is taken care of.  Think she’d like to join my harem?”

He shot me a stare mingling disbelief with fury.  “Fuck you!”

Megan stopped just within sword reach of him.  “Coward!  Face me.”

“If you manage to beat her,” I said, “which isn’t likely, be prepared to fight every family member she has.  The whole thing
will
turn into a clan war.  Dragon parents will die, their children made into orphans.  Violence will erupt across the dragon world, especially if the other clans jump in, choosing sides.”  I picked up a glass and took a slow drink.  “I could weep copious tears, if only I had a heart.” 

“You bastard!” he roared.  “You set me up!”

I sighed.  “Yeah, I did.  See, when you stop being my friend, you have no reason to live, and without a reason to live—well, the merciful thing is too kill you, but the problem is, I’m not merciful.  That’s a reputation I’ve got to uphold, so I’m afraid that I’m going to have to torture you before I let the peace of death enfold you.”  I gave him my best evil grin-of-impending-doom.  “I know exactly how I’m going to break you.”

Red spun toward me and gripped the edge of the bar with both hands.  “Damn it, I know I was wrong, but I’ve got my pride.  You’re never going to get me to admit it.  I’m damned unbreakable.”

I put another empty glass down, and licked the sweet lavender-flavored sugar on my lips.  “Yeah, pride.  That’s the weakness I was just talking about.”  At the moment, I had no jacket on, just a long sleeved charcoal colored shirt on to cover the tatts on my torso.  I unbuttoned the cuffs, then started down the center, freeing one button at a time, but not opening my shirt.  Megan edged to the side, licking her lips, waiting to see my bared flesh. 

Really, that girl’s way too easy.

As Red looked at me, his brow furrowed with puzzlement.  “What are you doing, Caine?  I know what your tatts look like.  I put them on you, remember?”

I moved down, finishing the last of the buttons.  “Yeah, I know.  You spent an ungodly amount of research time on the magic involved, devising the special inks, and then with the work itself; all those hours with a needle gun in your hand, creating perfection.  You made me powerful, as well as a work of art.  For years, you’ve told everyone that I come to you because I want only the best, right?”

“You did come to me, but we’re through.  If you weren’t out fucking over the universe, you wouldn’t be targeted by enemies every other hour of the day.  You were the reason Julia got snatched up by bad people.  Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong,” I said.  “But I never gave you permission to stop being my friend.  Friends are possessions, and I never surrender mine willingly, not without a way to make it pay off down the road.  You can only stop being my friend when
I’m
done with
you
: when you’re old, half blind, and too trembly to hold a needle gun anymore.”

Realizing that his mouth was hanging open, Red Fang closed it.  “You’re insane!”

Megan frowned at his disrespect, then looked at me, asking, “So can I lop his head off or not?  I got all dressed up for this.”

I murmured to her.  “Patience dear.”  She glowed, smiling at the cheap endearment. 
Really, who said you had to buy the cow to get the milk? 
I stared back at Red and opened my shirt.