Demon Lord 6: Garnet Tongue Goddess (29 page)

My hand glowed with raw magic.  The gold fire under the skin had a greenish cast tainting it.

“Now,” she said.

I reached out and gripped the middle of the knife.  Her magic stung, the purple jags biting like the blade.  Blood dripped to the wooden deck making a bright splatter.

“Let go,” she said.

I pulled back, closing my hand into a tight fist as the wound began to heal.  I took the knife back in my right hand.  The blade had changed; acquiring a dark green shimmer around its midnight-red core. 

“I’ve done the best I could,” she said.

I looked past my fist, at the deck, at the spilled blood between us.  “Was that part really necessary?”

She smiled, playing with my mind, then said, “That seals the weapon to you specifically.  Anyone else using it will be poisoned.  Also, as it empties poison energy into your enemies, it will recharge by pulling more of the poison out from you.”

“So you’re saying if I kill enough people with this knife, I could eventually burn the poison out of my system.”  I smiled, a raging hard on developing. 

“Well, I suppose…”

“Hot damn, watch out world!”

1

TWENTY-NINE

“My fucking fault? Don’t point

that shit out; it’s hurtful!”

                                                 —
Caine Deathwalker

I had my suit back.  It smelled decidedly feminine.  Holy’s personal ozone scent and her designer knock-off perfume mingled, keeping her presence floating in my mind.  The knife Ryella had enspelled rode on my right thigh, in its sheath.  The suit’s security system was off-line.  I didn’t know about the GPS transmitter.  The bright red cod-piece still needed to be painted black like the rest of the material.

Fucking target.  At least I’ll know where the bad guys are aiming.

We left the treehouse by way of the magic door, stepping straight from one world to another.  An eternal mystery—both female and feline—Leona came along, padding along beside me.  We emerged in my Malibu mansion, at the end of the hallway.  We tromped along and entered my master bedroom.

“Hardly the time for an orgy,” Holy muttered. 

“Orgy?” Ryella stopped, a deer under the wheels of a semi. 

On the other hand, Silf looked suddenly happy to be in my service.  “Orgy?”

I hurried to squash his hopes.  “I don’t invite guys to those.  We’re here to use my magic mirror.  It will get us to the clan house on Catalina Island.”  I went around the bed to the full-length mirror and touched the frame in a very specific pattern.  The surface of the glass and my reflection rippled.  The image gave way to another master bedroom.  “Alright,” I said, “everyone step lively.”

They filed past and went through.  Rocky came through last.  How he managed to fit was the first miracle I’d ever seen.  Maybe he had some means of compressing his mass.  Maybe he just held his breath.  I deactivated the mirror, closing the hole in space behind us.  My image returned to the glass. 
Ruggedly handsome as always. 

I snagged an extra cell phone off the dresser and pocketed it.

The group waited, staring around curiously.  Ryella picked up a gossamer nighty off the floor.  “This would never keep you warm on a stormy night.”

“I’m a guy.  That’s Izumi’s.”

Dhal picked handcuffs off the bed.  He whirled it, one finger through a loop.  “Keep many prisoners here?”

“You’d be surprised.” 

I pushed past him, opened the door to the living room, and went through.  The rest of the suite had the feel you get when a place is empty of life. 
Osamu’s probably out on errands.
  “Holy, Rocky, you’re off-duty.  Exit’s that way.  Go have fun.”  I pointed at the hall door and watched them hurry off.  Turning to the fey, I watched them inspecting the white leather furniture.  Ryella pushed on the upholstery of the loveseat, making sure it was good enough for her. 

I said, “You guys hang out here, stay close.  I have to let Security know you’re here as my guests so there will be no freak-outs later.”  I also had to touch base with Teresa and Thorn.  I went to the door, pausing on the threshold, looking back.  “Oh, if an Old Man with slanty eyes shows up, don’t piss him off.  He handles domestic chores around here and is good with a demon sword.  Ask nice, and he’ll show you how to operate the flat screen.”  I pointed at the TV hanging from the ceiling.

In the hall, I closed the door behind me, and went on toward the Great Hall.  I noticed Leona following at my heels.  “You’re going to hang out with me?”

“Yeah.  I figure you’ll do something stupid soon.  I need a good laugh.”

“Fuck you,” I said.

She unleashed a coughing grunt.  “You wish you
had
this fine fuzzy ass in your harem, oh poisoned cock of doom.”

That’s hurtful.
  My cock complained. 

“Whatever,” I told Leona. 

Damn.  She’s heard.  That means they all have.  Fuck.  That means no fuck.  From anyone.  Safe sex from now on is going to be limited to vampire hookers and they want a lot.  My poor bank account.  There were also zombie strippers, but stuffing brains down G-strings tended to get messy.

I passed assorted demons on the way.  Most remembered to nod in respect.  A few forgot.  I didn’t remind them. 
As long as they do what I say, I don’t stand on protocol
.  A few stared at my cod-piece and lightly snickered.

Yeah, fuck you, too.

I passed the wall murals near the foyer’s front doors.  Since I didn’t stare directly, the holographic motion effect didn’t kick in.  I entered the Great Hall itself.  There was a changing of the guard going on.  I stayed out of the way, letting them handle routine business.  The open expanse of parquet flooring and the three-tier chandeliers high overhead made this seem more ballroom than throne room.  But it did have a throne and for once the Old Man wasn’t warming it up or me.  I went and sat, pulling out my phone.  Leona squatted nearby, staring, her tail wagging.  I checked my phone messages. 

There were quite a few from Teresa.  I punched in her number.  She picked up.  “Caine here.  You called?”

“Yeah, a lot.  Where the hell have you been?”

“Why,” I asked.  “I killed off a lot of snake men for you, and your ghosts are gone.” 
Eaten by the revenant.

“Much as I appreciate that,” she said, “I still have a monster zombie wandering across the grounds.  Get your ass back here and
murderize
it—on camera.”

I lifted an eyebrow.  “Is
murderize
a word?”

“You want to get paid?”

Murderize is a word. 
“I’ll be there soon.  I take it you’re not still in Hawthorn.”

“No, I’m at the school with my crew.  We need to film.  The TV execs are riding my ass to get things wrapped up.”

I thought of the wipe I’d ordered Holy to do of their computer system. 
Good luck with that
. 

I sighed.  “You know, I evacuated the school to keep everyone safe.  If you’re going to run around waving cameras, it’s not my fault if someone gets their brains eaten.”

“You know,” her voice went low and edgy as she changed the subject, “we had a mysterious fire here in the control room, lost a lot of vid files.”

I smiled.  “That’s too bad.”

Her voice went all chipper, “Oh, no worries.  I had everything backup in the cloud servers.  And I mean everything.”

Not good.  She has the sex tape of me and Lillian.  That could seriously damage the porn industry.  They can’t compete with me.

Teresa said, “A mysterious electrical storm had better not happen again.”

I made a non-committal sound and hung up on her, putting my phone away. 

Damn, maybe the revenant senses I’m still alive somewhere.  Its ghost-soul might be a grudge.  They can be single-minded.

“Stupid revenant is making me look bad.”

“You need help with that?” a deep voice boomed.  The Old Man came around from behind my throne, looking as big and blue as ever.

“Don’t you have an execution—I mean wedding—to plan?”

“Ooo, I want to be a flower girl,” Leona said.  “When people see me—think of the fear!”

“So not happening,” the Old Man said.  He leaned on one arm of the throne, peering at me.  “You have loose ends?”

“Yeah, a revenant naga.  I think I’ll go in with hand grenades this time.” 

“Did you melt down the yantra on the roof of the building, like I asked?  Neglecting things like that can come back to bite you in the posterior region.”

I stared at him, changing the subject so he wouldn’t know I’d totally forgotten.  “Whatever will you do when your new bride asks you to talk dirty to her in the heat of passion?”

He stopped and stared into infinity, the wheels of his brain spinning, the gears starting to smoke.  “I can’t say it’s not possible.  Maybe there’s a book I can buy on line—”

“For fuck’s sake, Old Man!  Get going on that research.”

He hurried off.

I looked around.  The Great Hall had no permanent attendants unless a scheduled event was taking place, but domestic staff always seemed to know when someone’s ass was on the throne—like it was wired.  I looked around and spotted a servant watching me with their full attention, waiting.  Waiting.  Waiting.

I beckoned with a ripple of fingers. 

The koi demon hurried over.  His face was orange and white mottled.  His eyes were white and globular like ping-pong balls with round, black pupils.  He had gills behind tiny baby ears.  His fish lips, trying out a human smile, made his face look weird as hell.  Wearing the blue cotton, double breasted shirt of a kitchen worker, he bowed deeply, as a smart person does when in the presence of a lunatic wearing a combat suit when no zombie apocalypse is raging.  “How may I serve?”  He held a plastic laminated menu in his webbed fingers.

Wanting to check out the beverage list, I reached for the menu.  Food wasn’t really on my mind.  Alcohol was.  As always.  Except for when thinking about alcohol
and
sex.  Alcohol, sex, and vast troves of treasure. 
Really, what else is important in life?

He said, “Today for lunch the kitchen is offering Montecristo sandwiches with a side of steak fries.”

Yeah, it’s lunch time here.  Fairy keeps different time
. 

I pretended to peruse the menu, letting a finger trail through the seafood section.  “Hmmm.  How’s the sushi.”

He stared at me like as fish out of water.  Like a fish in fear for its life.  “The sandwiches are
extremely
tasty.”

“Just bring me a liter of Jim Beam Red Stag Bourbon, the honey tea flavor.  Pack it for a road trip.”

“I-I don’t know if that’s in stock,” he said.

“Then maybe I
will
have the sushi.”  I stared at him meaningfully.

“I will return quickly with your bourbon.”  He ran from my presence, returning in ten minutes with a half-gallon plastic jug, the kind with a screw-off top that also had a handy built-in spout.  The jug was bright red, like the cod-piece on my suit. 

That reminded me.  “Have someone bring me a can of matte black spray paint.”

He looked at the jug in his hands.  “You don’t like the color?  May I suggest koi orange?”

“May I suggest you do as you’re told before I tell the leopard she can have
you
for lunch?”  I snatched the red jug from his hands.

He opened his toothless mouth, lifted a finger, said nothing, and closed his mouth.  He cast a quick glance at Leona and backed away, careful not to run and trigger her hunting reflexes.  Leona stared at him until he left the space.

I shook my head sadly.  “It must be rough, being a fish.  Even a demon fish.  They don’t get any respect at all.”

Leona looked back at me.  “I wonder why that is.”

I shrugged and made a call to the demon clan switchboard.  “Caine here.”

“Caine who?”

I stared at my phone a moment, then put it back to my ear.  “Are you a temp hire by any chance?”

“Uh, yes, sir.  Just started today.”

“What kind of demon are you?” I asked.

There was a pause.  I heard another voice as she talked to another operator, maybe her supervisor.  “Is this Caine Deathwalker?  The one who walks around with the red cod-piece?”

Does everyone know that? 
“Yes.  I need a portal-caster in the Great Hall.” 
Why drive when I can have space folded for my benefit?

The operator said, “I’ll see to it, sir.”

You didn’t answer my question,” I said.

Another pause.  “I’m a dung beetle demon.”

Leona snickered, using her heightened hearing to listen in on my conversation. 

I spoke sharply into the phone.  “Someone told you to say that, right?”

“Y-yes sir.  We’re not supposed to encourage your advances for the foreseeable future.”

“No?  Why not?”  I already suspected, but I needed to hear it.

“You won’t kill me for answering, will you?”

“No, I won’t kill you for answering.” 
I’ll find some other reason if I need to
.

Another.  Freakin’.  Pause.  Her voice came, nearly a whisper, as if she couldn’t believe her own courage.  “They say you wear a red cod-piece to give fair warning.”

I smiled with little humor, bracing myself.  “Go on.”

“They say you’re PCOD.  The poisoned cock of doom.”

That
phrase again.  The same one Leona had used.  I shot her a look that could kill dinosaurs and pulled a PX4 Storm semi-automatic from the ether.  It felt perfect in my hand, a comforting weight.

Leona faded out.

I yelled, “Okay, so you can run
and
hide.  I’ll still get you, my little fuzzy.  And your catnip toys, too.”  I felt a diabolical evil laugh coming on, though, really, nothing was funny.