Demon Lord 4: White Jade Reaper (13 page)

Before I was halfway through an intersection, a yellow light turned red.  Horns sounded.  A traffic camera flashed, and I knew someone was going to try and mail me a traffic ticket.  Unfortunately for them, the special chemical coating applied to my license plate kept it from being recorded—though the human eye saw it just fine. 

The wonders of modern technology…

THIRTEEN

“If wishes were corpses, we’d all be victims of someone’s envy”
 

                                    —Caine Deathwalker

I pulled up in front of a free-standing concrete slab that had an embedded brass sign saying: Branden Conservatory.  Beyond lay an old Victorian-style mansion, a red and white brick expanse with a tower and a wraparound wooden porch.  Next to the Victorian, the school’s modern, three-story building looked out of place, all steel and blue-tinted windows.  There was a separate hall for performances with a large, mostly empty parking lot adjoining it.  The flowerbeds with their sprinklers allowed blooms to grow that the desert would otherwise have killed.  The buildings enjoyed quiet, sitting on the edge of town, the closest neighbor being a housing development under construction where work was done for the day.

Parked ahead of me was an older model black Nova.  The driver’s door opened.  Madison bailed, slamming the door shut behind her.  She stomped over to my Mustang and got in next to me.  She pointed. “Over there.”

I drove onto the property and followed a side road over to where Grace was supposed to be, a great, arch-roofed building with three sets of double doors, colonial pillars in front, and a wide flight of stairs.  The parking lot we entered was empty, a concrete expanse with freshly painted lines.  I parked and stepped out.  Madison did the same.  I locked up with the remote, and led Madison toward the front of the hall. 

I wasn’t sure what I could do if Grace was still
crossed over
to the ghost realm adjoining ours.  I couldn’t cross that barrier on my own, nor could Madison, but if Grace saw us, she could pull us across the dimensional divide. 

I ran up the stairs to the middle set of double doors.  I tugged on the handle and the door opened.  I didn’t know if that was normal or not.  Inside was a foyer carpeted in deep red.  The walls were Brazilian rosewood.  High track-lighting blazed down.  There were a few couches separated by long-legged tables, and far left and right, broad staircases winding upward.  The foyer had a number of open doors leading deeper into an auditorium that sloped downward to a half-circle stage.  I went into the main part of the building, following an aisle with red upholstered seats and more of the blood-hued carpeting.  High in the cavernous space, crystal chandeliers were switched on, but not turned full on. 

I stopped to scan the place, looking for motion.

Madison yelled, her voice moving past me, echoing, naturally amplified by the design of the place.  “Grace!  Onyx!”

The curtains at the back of the stage rippled.  A phantom wind sprang from nothing, hitting gale force in moments.  The curtains whipped in great billows, tearing under the attack.  Mixed into the wind-scream was the howl of spirit voices, a sliding, keyless keen that cut like a sword.  I staggered back a step and went down on one knee.  Summoning my guns would have done no good.  I still had nothing solid to fight. 

Madison knelt with me, yelling into my ear to be heard.  “What do we do?”

Hell if I know.

And then Grace was there, popping into view mid-stage.  A shredded black mist roiled around her.  She hung in the air.

With a savage growl, I leaped ahead, feeling a surge of strength from my inner dragon.  I landed, went to my knees, and skidded under Grace. Gravity won out against whatever force was suspending her. She plunged toward the hardwood stage, but it was all right—I’d gotten there in time.  Grace hit my chest as my arms came up to scoop her.  She lay stunned, unmoving against me.  I laid her down.

Above, in the tearing claws of the wind, the black vapor churned in on itself, spooling, thickening, and hardening in defiance.  A black man-shape formed, dropping on the other side of Grace.  Onyx.  He leaned over her, his hand feeling for a pulse at her throat. His face emerged from darkness to make him human, in appearance anyway. 

Struggling up against the press of the wind, Madison waded up to us.  At the edge of sight, I saw the glint of throwing knives in one of her hands.  Confronted with the inexplicable and dangerous, it was human nature to get armed fast.  

She asked, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah,” Onyx said.  “Just give her a minute.”

Somewhere, a chandelier snapped free of its chains and crashed into the seating.  Before more damage could follow, the wind dissolved, suddenly remembering it had someplace to go.  A normal silence set in, but it seemed eerie.

Grace’s eyes flickered open.  She stared into a great distance as if she hadn’t fully returned from the ghost realm.  A deep, shuddering breath filled her lungs.  Her gaze sharpened.  Her lips trembled as she spoke.  “O-ow-ouch!  What hit me?  A truck?”

“Dissonance,” Onyx said.  “Something like spectral sound that’s been tortured into madness.”

Grace groaned and closed her eyes.  “So weak.  Damn bastard ate a chunk off my life force.  Gotta … recharge.”

“’Damn bastard?’” Madison asked.

“Ghosts,” Onyx said, “very hungry ones.”

“I thought you’d said there were no ghosts on this property,” Madison said.

“Nowhere else, just here apparently.  Somehow, they don’t have free range.”  Grace’s eyes opened again.  She reached toward me.  “Help me up.”

I bent forward and offered my right arm.  Grace latched on and I pulled her up.  She leaned into me a moment, one hand pressing into her right ribs.  Finding her balance, she stepped back, her motion stopped by Onyx’s close presence.  Madison came around me and went up to Grace, peering into her eyes.  Madison still had the throwing knife in one hand.  She used her free hand, holding up two fingers.  “How many fingers do you see?”

“Five,” Grace said, “but only two are stickin’ up.”

“Smart ass.  I don’t think you have a concussion.  Ribs hurt?”

“Yeah.  Can we get outta here?”

“Wait a second,” I said.  “Did you learn anything about the serial killer I’m after?”

“Yeah, some of his ghostly victims are here in the hall, what’s left of them.”

Onyx came around her so he could see her face.  “What’s that mean?”

Grace wrapped her arms around herself, as if feeling the cold of the grave.  These aren’t regular ghosts anymore.  They’ve been distorted, contaminated in some way.  Their energy is all wrong.”

At last, this was getting somewhere.  I’d assumed I was after a normal serial killer.  If the killer were making use of the ghosts he created, he might well be more than human.  Maybe not human at all.  This also seemed to indicate he was tied to this property in some way.  I thought about what Grace had just said.  “How is the energy wrong?”

She shrugged.  “Ghosts have a kind of color coding to them, usually purple or green.  Demons are hazed with a cold, black smudge that dances like fire.”

She meant the fallen angel type.  None of the demons in my clan had shadow fire, though one or two could cloak themselves in darkness, going into stealth mode.  ”So, what kind of energy did these ghosts have?”

“Muddy red,” she said.  “It gave the air an odd stink like rotten blood.”

“Ewwww!” Madison said.  “How do you know what rotten blood smells like?  Stood over corpses much?”

Shadows stirred in Grace’s eyes, dimming them.  “Yeah, I have.  Like my Mom, I sometimes get called on by the Texas branch of the PRT.”

Just like Cassie.  Now, why wasn’t that in my background report?  Someone’s doing shoddy work.  Someone’s going to hear about this when I get back to L.A.  Hear about it with a two-by-four across the head.  Well, if nothing else, it means Grace is a little more capable than I thought.

A quivery voice swatted at us from the side of the stage.  “You there!  Who are you people?”

Footfalls echoed as someone drew closer.  A glance assured me I didn’t need to summon my guns and cut loose.  We were being approached by a white-haired old guy piloting a silver-headed cane, in a salmon colored suit with a pink shirt and chocolate brown tie.  I felt like shooting him anyway because of his fashion sense.  I relented only because I approved of the deep shine on his shoes.

I gave low-voiced instructions to the group huddled around me.  “Follow my lead but don’t get too carried away.  We need to infiltrate this place.”

I stepped out to block the old man’s advance with a raised palm.  “Please wait.  My client hasn’t finished her assessment of the acoustics in this place.  It will be an important element in my decision whether or not to have her attend your quant institution.”

Grace intoned, “Mi, mi, mi, mi … do, re, mi … fa, sol, fa…”

The old man’s eyes narrowed under thick, furry eyebrows.  “I was not informed that visitors were touring our facilities.”

I gave him a measuring glance and a frown to show that I did not approve of what I saw.  “We shall probably be gone soon.  I have yet to see anything here worthy of Grace.  Place is shoddy.”  I pointed out at the fallen chandelier.  “That bit of crystal couldn’t even withstand the force of her high notes.  What kind of place are you running here?”

He sputtered, falling silent as his eyes alighted on the damaged chandelier.  “My god!  Someone could have been killed had that occurred in a live performance!”

“Exactly.”  I turned my back to face Grace and murmured, “Sell it.  Show him what he’s missing if he doesn’t let you in.”

There was doubt in her eyes, a lack of confidence.

Madison nudged her with an elbow.  “Go on.  We believe in you.”

“Show us the power of love and friendship,” Onyx said.

I caught his eye.  “You’ve been watching too much anime.”

His eyes went wide.  “Is such a thing possible?  Isn’t it the major art form of your planet?”

“Definitely,” Madison said.

“Give me some room.”  Grace waved us off with fluttery hands, lifting her face to the soaring space above.  A crystalline note pealed out, sharp and cutting, incredibly high.  It tore across the seating, a slashing sword, flying into the gloom where the chandeliers couldn’t reach.  For a moment, I felt the weight of
something’s
attention bleeding through the dimension walls. 

No, the attention‘s on Grace, not me.
 
Her father?
Something else?

Just when I thought the note had to fail from lack of breath, it gathered strength from somewhere and leaped even higher in range, a sound more like an instrument than anything a human voice ought to be able to make.  It seemed to me that her vocal cords had actually changed in use to produce more than human results. 
Well, she is Kitsune and Shadow.  As much as she clings to the human form, she really isn’t human.

The note was clipped, leaving a ghostly resonance of itself out in the theater that was slower to fade.  The returning silence seemed living and fragile, as if it begging to be broken once more.

The old man pushed past me, his eyes on Grace.  “That was incredible!  Such a voice…  Please, you must let me show you around.”

She smiled in satisfaction, but said, “Thank you, but we can’t stay.  There are several more schools we’re checking out in the area.”  She took Madison’s arm.  “Come on,
Sis
.”

They only got to the edge of the stage before the old man caught up to them, hobbling swiftly. 

“No, please, you must give us a chance.  There is so much we can do for you.  A talent such as your must be carefully shaped and nurtured.”

Grace paused.  Turning back, she made a show of chewing her upper lip in indecision.  “You need to inspect those chandeliers.  I’m not staying someplace where people are going to be killed.”

“Just a freak accident, I assure you.  I’ll have them all inspected at once!”

“Well, it is getting late,” I said.  “I suppose the rest of the schools can wait ‘til tomorrow.”

“Certainly,” the old man said.  “Oh, where are my manners?  I haven’t introduced myself yet.  I’m Dr. Shawcross, president of this institution.”  He offered his hand.

I ignored the gesture, handing him one of my red and yellow business cards instead. 

Blinking owl-like, he took the card and read it, “Caine Deathwalker, Risk Management?”

I smiled.  “I do celebrity representation as well as private security.  Because of her talent, Ms. Grace has her share of hormone-driven stalkers.  I hope this place is more secure than its first impression indicates.  I want my niece to be safe.”

Grace looked at me when I claimed kinship, but she didn’t contradict me.

“We haven’t had much trouble out here on the edge of the city, Mr.,” Shawcross looked at the card again, “…uh, Deathwalker.  We do have a groundskeeper.  I will alert him to keep an eye out for trouble.”

I sighed.  “Well, I suppose I can lend you my man here.”  I gestured to Onyx.  “Mr. Black is Grace personal bodyguard.  He will stay with her at all times.” 

“At all times,” Onyx said.

Grace smiled brightly.  “He’s like my very own secret service agent, just without sunglasses or a gun.”

“I hope his presence will not be a problem?” I said.

Dr. Shawcross hastened to shake his head.  “No, not at all.”  He swept a hand toward the front entrance.  “If you will all come with me…”