Demon Lord 5: Silver Crown King (16 page)

He stared.  His mouth dropped open again.  It wasn’t because of the amulet I wore on gold chain.  His eyes wiggled as he scanned my chest and stomach, looking over what I’d done too his tattoos.  Nothing, really.  The magic of the amulet altered the appearance of the ink without actually changing me.  The alterations were illusion ... and heartbreakingly godawful.  I looked like a yakuza gangster that had work done by Pablo Picasso while high on meth.  I looked like a picture drawn by a committee of four-year olds, none of whom spoke the same language, all of them holding the crayons in their toes.  There were splotches, overly thick lines, and garish colors.  A ping-pong-eyed mermaid with miss-matched breasts swirled my bellybutton, frigging herself with a tuna. 

The tuna didn’t seem to mind.

Red did.  “You’re going to go around and tell people that’s my work?  That will destroy my business.  I’ll never work again!”

I smiled.  “And you haven’t even seen the back yet.  There’s a picture of ninety-eight year old whore sitting on the face of a red dragon, cutting off his penis with a straight razor.  A lotta blood.  The red dragon is farting fire.  The lines are somewhat crude.  It looks like you just can’t stay inside the lines.  Under that is a fuck-fest featuring
My Itty-bitty Pony
and
Horney Kitty
.  Now, do you still think you have a choice?”

He bowed his head.  “Put the shirt back on, Caine.  You win.  What do you want?”

“Julia will be staying with me until after the coronation.  You will be expected to attend.  And to be on your best behavior.”

“What coronation?” Red asked.

“I’m being crowned as a lord of Fairy.  Your invitation—with the details—should be in the mail already.  You should dress formally, and bring a lot of weapons.  I can’t guarantee your safety.  That’s up to you.”

“Fine,” Red said.  “Anything else?”

“Yes.  You’re paying to fix my wall, and you need to get down on your knees to beg my forgiveness.  Three minutes of groveling should do it.”

Red’s grin was shaky, sickly.  “But, Caine, c’mon, buddy.  We’re friends…”

I looked at him coldly.  “You should have remembered that earlier.” 

He got down on one knee as I came around the bar to watch.  He glowered up at me.  Clenched jaw muscles told me how much he hated this.  “All right, I’ll grovel,” he said, “but when I’m done, I’ll still be tall and you’ll still be a shrimp.”

“Four minutes,” I said.

SIXTEEN

“If living in my own mind fails to scare

me, what makes you think you can?”

                                                  —Caine Deathwalker

I considered: Gloria had the food and drink covered.  She’d be basing operations from my Malibu house, using the magic door past my bedroom to access Fairy.  That door went to the garden outside my treehouse mansion, not my mountain fortress, but the land was malleable, distances were fluid, the very shape and textures of my kingdom shifting on my whims.  I intended to fold space, to move my treehouse mansion over to the keep, at least until after the party. 

This was going to be draining, which was why I couldn’t leave it for later.  During the coronation, I’d want to be totally fresh since I expected all hell to come calling.

I continued my mental checklist to see if I had everything in place so I could get on with business.  Invitations were out.  L.A. guests knew to come here to access my kingdom.  I planned to have Angie’s wolves hanging out here as security in case the wrong people tried to crash the party from here.  Angie had a copy of my guest list and taken a sizable check for her services.  Cat and her were-lager boyfriend were going to be here too.  In fact, they were already next door at Izumi’s with Angie, offering moral support.

As requested, the Old Man had sent me a king’s ransom worth of ammo.  It had come through the magic mirror in my suite at the Clan House, straight into my armory.  I was going to be fighting a damned war.  The last thing I needed was to run dry of ammo.  With so many of our forces in Fairy, the Old Man was staying in the Clan House; he’d thought someone might take advantage of the lowered security.  He wasn’t going to have all our repairs go for nothing, or have the place looted while focus was elsewhere. 

Lysande would bring the crowns—minus the dream stone enchantments.  She knew I’d check and if I found anything off, well, she’d wish I’d left her in enemy hands.  Osamu and Julia were with Lysande and Teramantha.  The young girls had become fast friends despite their age gap.  That didn’t mean I’d turn my back on Teramantha, not with bad blood between us.  Sure, I’d saved the girl from disfigurement and probably death, but I’d also killed her father. 

People hold grudges over such silly little things.  Okay, time to begin Phase Two.

I walked down the hall, past my master bedroom, and opened the door to my kingdom.  The door closed behind me, just a door standing upright in the middle of a private garden.  The door didn’t have to come out in the garden.  I could reset the transfer point so visitors arrived up in the great tree, in the mansion.

My glance slid across a jet-black polished that sat near a lightly splashing fountain, its base layered by silver vines.  Several surfaced roots broke soil, humping up to provide further seating.  Padded leather cushions were tied to the root-couches.   

Inside a surrounding white brick wall, wild flowers glowed in neon colors like something scribbled in fluorescent chalk.  There were wild crimson roses, and a few nine-foot cherry trees.  The energy of my land filled me, a surge of affection that I returned. Something about being here was making my usual aches a distant thing.  Breathing felt easier.  Fresh strength seeped into me as the land welcomed me with its attention.

The garden and the massive tree that held my aerial estate were surrounded by a stone wall.  Entry came through an oversized iron gate that fey intruders would have a hard time getting past.  Of course, with the land watching out for me, I didn’t really need locks, but a paranoid mastermind takes precautions against what might happen, not just what was likely. 

Beyond the wall lay the great golden plain.  Beyond that lurked a band of charcoal forest.  Past that, reared black-purple bruised mountains.  I visualized soaring high over my domain, staring greedily down on a kingdom that would like very much like a dragon’s eye peering back.  When taken as a new possession, a fey land reshapes itself to reflect the nature of its new owner.  Land and lord become symbiotic; dependent on one another in many ways.  I was counting on that to get me through the storm that was coming.

I turned toward the great tree and the mansion it supported, drawn by the beauty of the workmanship.  The house had diamond-paned windows had glinted when beams of sun or moonlight breached the leafy canopy.  The walls were rare and precious woods, laid in abstract mosaics.  The sprawling decks encircled the elevated rooms.  The magic door was usually locked, keyed only for my use, but I often found the spirit leopard over here, as if I’d magically constructed the massive treehouse solely for her benefit. 

I called up there, “Leona, are you here?”

“Caine?  That’s you skulking around down there?”  The black leopard’s head hung over the deck, peering down at me, yellow eyes blazing.  “Good thing you said something.  I was about to throw a dead bird at you.”

“I’m doing some renovations and—” 

A dead bird dropped onto my head, bounced, and landed three feet away.  It was a blackbird with cloudy red eyes.

“Oops,” Leona said.  “That one slipped.”

“Anyway,” I said, “you’d better grab hold of something stable.  I’m moving this part of my kingdom over to adjoin the mountain keep.”

“Izumi’s place?”

“It’s mine, too.  That’s where we’re having the coronation.  Oh, if you see Storm Court, Autumn Court, Shadow Court, or Nightmare Court fey skulking about before or during the celebration, feel free to kill all you want.”

“Really?  It’s going to be one of those orgies of destruction you hear about?  Count me in. 

Oooo!  Rivers of blood.  I can taste them now.”

It takes so little to make some people happy.

I stretched out on fragrant earth and grass, closing my eyes.  My senses were locked on the garden.  I visualized myself as a ghost, sinking down out of my body.  I fell through grass roots, soil and stones, eluding the grasp of tree roots great and small.  As a being of pure awareness, I reached out with currents of golden magic seeking those that veined the land.  Deep down, a vibration rolled across me, like a vast heart beating in slow motion with all the time in the fey world.  It felt like I’d been loosed from my body and had grown a web of nerves that extended like roots for miles.  This was my tie, the bond of ownership.  I would have to die before the land would accept another claim. 

I shaped my desire, focusing my thoughts, my desire, on what I wanted to have happen.  I felt the land respond, a small shudder at first like a beginning quake, a ripple of earth under me.  Lying still, I felt the garden move like a living thing, carrying me on its back—and the garden, the giant tree, and the wall around my estate as well.  A gentle wind kissed my cheek.  The golden fields of the central valley parted as my estate set course for the bruised mountains.  

The speed increased as the land caught my excitement and decided to show me what she could really do.  Wisps of cloud appeared, a translucent veil across the bright blue sky.  A few hills came and went, piled up for my amusement.  My estate rippled, rose, cresting high, then sliding down the backs of the hills.  The golden grain gave way to forest which parted to either side as my compound carved its way through wild terrain. 

Nowhere was there sign of habitation.  No fey mills with paddle wheels dipping in streams, no enchanting little cottages, no sleepy towns, or castles towers with multi-colored banners snapping in the wind.  No herds grazed in the forest leas.  This was my land, and those that travelled her without my permission, those that might want to settle in secret, they would be driven out by terrors of the night as the land gave shape to the dark things in my soul.

The estate climbed at a steeper angle, slithering down into valleys, sliding up across the forested ridges of hills.  The hills gave way to towering mountain and river cut ravines.  These mountains flowed like wax, cradling my estate, handing it from one rock giant to another.  We were high, where the air chilled and thinned.  Snow capped the exposed teeth of the earth. 

I wasn’t using my eyes to see all this; the land was inside me—a knowing—that matched the external reality.  That knowing let me feel that we were approaching a land of ice and endless winter, a land that answered to someone else: Izumi’s mother.  The Winter Court was my neighbor on this border.

Once a disk of property, my estate had become an oval patch with a distorted, wiggling wall.  It flowed down into a narrow valley.  The rocks here were softened, rounded like pillow lava that had cooled and been weathered by eons of rain.  My estate skated down the center of the valley, along a winding river edged in white gravel.  Trails came out of clumps of trees and various orchards.  The air warmed as we passed steaming hot springs.   Several large boulders gave sanctuary to the natural baths.  These boulders were wrapped in honeysuckle and wisteria, sweetening the air.  Song birds trilled in the shadows of woodland.  I’d have to wait until nightfall for the region’s ivory moths—the size of dinner plates—to flitter across the moon-silvered sky. 

We were almost there, following a bend in the river, around a spire of rock giving the universe the finger.  The river expanded into a mountain lake that butted up against a curved wall of rock.  Many streams branched, trickling down the wall.  High in the rock was my keep, like something chiseled from stone by an army of dwarf workers.  Pale blue glass filled narrow windows.  Light beamed out through them.  Capping the central building, a great hall, was a peaked roof layered with red-clay tiles.  There were stone chimneys disgorging wood smoke.  The keep was part of the land, and celebrated my presence, preparing to receive me. 

My estate grounded to a stop, its leading wall opening to embrace a grove of saplings with gray-bark, and saw-tooth leaves like miniature spear points.  In the branches were small globes of fruit as bruise-looking as the mountains we were now in.  Izumi had planted these trees, Choke cherries.  Good for making jam and winter wine. 

The gravel along the river fused into a white road that led into a high, arched tunnel at ground level.  The tunnel breached the polished granite under the raised builds.  Heavy, crisscrossing portcullises were raised in invitation. 

Leona’s trembling voice dropped down from my treehouse mansion.  “Are we there yet?”

“Sure,” I said.  “Come on down.”

“Is the ground still trembling, or is it just me?”

“Just you,” I said. 

I watched her spring from branch to branch, zigzagging her way down.  Her first couple jumps were sloppy, but she smoothed out quickly, landing and slinking over to me I stood.  Nervous, she kept her stomach low to the ground, flicking her tail tip in agitation, looking around for threats.

I moved toward the tunnel that accessed my keep.  Torches illuminated the inside of the tunnel, revealing the flagstones of an inner courtyard.  Leona stayed by my side as I crossed the tunnel and emerged in a huge cavern.  Stables lay to the left.  There was also a smithy, and barracks for guards.  To the right, ramps of stone wound up out of sight, accessing the higher levels of the keep.  I had the infrastructure for a community, but no one lived here—not yet.  

The paving stones underfoot were blue-gray octagons with square emeralds filling the gaps.  As I continued, the walls closed in.  They bristled with banners.  A great hall materialized around me.  Flags on the right bore gold dragon silhouettes flying against a black sky.  The banners on the left were midnight blue with a large silver-blue snowflake on each.  They stood for Izumi.  Between the hangings were silver-crafted stands, branched like saplings.  A nocturnal vine used the branches for support.  Its flowers were frosted yellow, spilling radiance in little pockets.   A fire pit in the center of the hall provided orange warmth.  A ten foot copper hood suspended over the fire pit caught the smoke, guiding it away so the air stayed fresh. 

Leona and I skirted the pit and approached a dais with glossy, midnight-blue thrones.  The taller one had a high back, its upper half carved into a flattened dragon profile with a topaz eye.  The smaller throne had no dragon on its back, but an oversized snowflake rendered in fine, crystalline detail.  They were meant for Izumi and me.

They were currently being usurped by stranger: a man and woman with the silver weapons strapped onto their elaborately jeweled clothing.  They had the ears of the fey, and smelled of fey magic.  The man had spade-shaped shoulder pads trimmed in white braid.  His hair was cut short, a roiling of reds, browns, and dusky golds—colors stolen from autumn.  His suit was bronze and rust silk.  Ruffles down his chest tried to give a sense of mass.  The truth was, a strong wind could have probably snapped him in half.  He wore a ring carved from bone, a bird skull on it instead of a stone.  His eyes were half-lidded, barely containing an aura of menace.

Autumn Court fey
, I decided. 
And not a low-level lackey
.

As Leona looked them over, sniffing delicately, her hackles bristled with threat.  A low growl hung in her throat.  Our visitor gave no sign of caring.

I studied the woman.  She was what Izumi would call “dark fey”.  Her skin was fair, creamy white.  Her eyes were a dance of violet and sapphire.  Her full lips were pursed, almost pouty.  It was her soul that was dark.  Her magic.  She wore a black opal necklace with red, green, and blue motes adrift in their depths.  Her gown was solarized; that slightly oily, headed-for-brown tone you get from frequent sun bleaching—the color of spoiled black.   She wore a saber-tooth necklace, over-sized cat teeth strung out on her ample chest.  Her hair waved with a life of its own, like kelp stirred by a dark sea current.