Demon Lord 4: White Jade Reaper (36 page)

She leaned on the sword, having grounded its point on the carpet.  She panted.  Her voice came out, the voice I knew.  “Oh, man, that wrings me out.  We got that thing on the ropes yet?”

I turned my attention to the phantasm, only to realize that that monster bulging eye was only a few yards off, glaring at me with unbridled hate.  There was a mucus membrane, a coating of crystal-blue that reflected my image back at me.  There was also a putrid burnt stench mixed with a cloying sweetness.  The air I breathed tasted of it, burning my throat.

Damn, I need a drink.

THIRTY-SIX

“Birth leaves us angry.  A slap on the ass doesn’t help.”

                                   —Caine Deathwalker

The creature’s “canon” opened fire, but what issued forth was toxic sludge, which told me what at least one of those strange organs was; a mutant form of spleen.  The stuff splashed in piss-yellow torrents that hit a spot a few feet away and miraculously curved to funnel into nowhere.  Grace shrieked anyway.  Women do that a lot when facing death.  I was saved the bother of grabbing her and using her as a shield to save myself—which would have been hell explaining to Cassie.

I knew why we’d been saved; folded space, Rasputin was keeping an eye on Cassie’s daughter.  I knew better than to think he was doing me a favor.  Vampires always negotiate
those
very carefully, with an eye to just
how
they’re going to be repaid, with interest.  In many ways, there’s little difference between a vampire and a mob boss.

Rasputin popped in from one of those distortions of his, lunging with vampire speed.  I barely had time to shake off my flame as he swept into Grace and me, and we were across the hall, on the ground floor stage, sprawling among the wreckage of several musical instruments.  I pulled a broken violin bridge out from under my right kidney.  Rasputin was on hands and knees, looking up at Cassie.  I think that’s how she prefers her men. 

Cassie voice came sharp and fast, “Grace, are you okay.”

“Ye-yes, Momma.  Not a chemical burn anywhere.”

Cassie’s gaze softened and swung to Raspy.  “Thank you.”

“It is nothing,” Rasputin said.  “Allies must watch out for one another.”

I picked myself up and looked at the phantasm.  “Is it my imagination, or is it trying to force its way across the threshold into life.”

“It’s trying to give birth to itself?” Grace stared up at the floating monstrosity.  “How weirdly awful.”

“Certainly unique,” I eyed the sludge that had dripped down from the upper balcony.  The stuff had dissolved a lot of the seating, thickening the air with acrid fumes.  Much more of that, and breathing in here would become impossible. “Its desire to live however saves us the necessity of keeping it here by spell circle. 
The more alive it gets, the less able it is to flee into the realm of the dead.
  The world that spawned it will reject it. 

Movement drew my attention to Madison.  She waved and yelled from Tukka’s broad back, “I’m outta ammo.  I’m going to go see if I can get some grenades off of Virgil.  Someone bring me back here when I get back.”  She rose in the saddle and stood on it.  A small leap moved her clear of Tukka.  As she landed, her human aura became invisible.  Running toward the front of the building, it was obvious she was under the effect of full gravity once more, and no longer in the ghost realm. 

The doors swung in on her as she reached them.  She skidded to a stop, face-to-muzzle with armed gunmen. 

“Oh, crap, the glory boys are here,” I said.

SWAT type commandoes in body armor, with automatic weapons hugged close to their bodies were slinking in.  A brief, mutual ID was made.  Madison was waved on by.  The SWAT team came down the aisle, another group entering by the second group.  Communicating with hand gestures and radio headsets, they didn’t bother checking the bodies to see if they could save anyone; after all, this was about getting trophies and headlines.

  Tukka’s aura flickered out.  He turned to face the oncoming gunmen.  The motion caught the attention of the SWAT guys before they had a chance to look up to notice the real threat.  Assault rifles were lined up on the fu dog.  He’d crossed back to the mortal side of the veil, waiting for Madison’s return. 

Stupid, big guy.  Real stupid.  They’re here looking for a dangerous monster and you pop up.  Might as well be holding a

protest sign saying please shoot me.

Tukka leaped away, trailing silent gunshots.  If it weren’t for the muzzle flashes and the damage to the theater, I wouldn’t even have known he was being shot at. 

His aura’s teal-blue flare signaled his return to the ghost realm.

The shooting cut off as the target vanished to the perspective of the SWAT teams. 

“Son of a bitch!” Tukka said.

“You certainly are,” I agreed.

Grace said, “It occurs to me that if that monster does get born—and gets loose—we could see the end of the world, especially if it can fertile itself, laying eggs or something.  A zombie apocalypse would be as nothing.”

“Here it comes again,” I said. 

The thing had turned, scanning the hall with that cyclops eye.  I knew it wanted me, but seeing the men below, it moved to hover over one group, the response of a hungry predator that needs to feed to heal.  The cannon ports remained, but under them, a new generation of sparkly blue and purple tendrils were growing in, weaving themselves thicker and thicker as they lowed.  Ten limbs formed and split to make twenty.  The tentacles writhed, curling at the tips to form nooses.

Stubborn bastard is really in need of an abortion.  If only he weren’t so resistant to my dragon flame. 
Maybe an inside attack… 

Cassie launched herself into the air, bounding toward the men under the tentacles.  Her sword of golden flame rippled, flapping with her motion.  She landed among the men and warded off the tentacles, slicing through those that tried to grab a quick snack.

Rasputin bent space, stepping into one of his disks of distortion.  He reappeared amid the second group and threw the SWAT members, two by two, into the distortion.  The last few to go tried to repay his kindness with gunfire.  His speed defeated their attempt to kill him.  The tesseract didn’t return the men elsewhere in the theater.  I had to assume he’d set them outside,

to safety.

I used the time they’d bought me, sending out a thought and summoned my Berettas from the satchel in the car trunk.  I’d gone through most of the regular ammo, and should now be tapping the explosive rounds.  The semi-automatics appeared in my hands.  “Now for my next trick…”  Since returning from Atlantis on a trip through time, I’d been building up my strength and technique using Shadow magic, the Old Man’s specialty.  It was time for that training to pay off. 

“Grace, pay attention.  There will be a test later.”  Shadow bled from pores, welling to dark and consume my hands.  I opened my fingers and the shadow hands drifted off into the air, closing to grip the guns.  I lowered my flesh hands to my side, concentrating my will on the shadow version I’d just created.   Those hands carried the guns out over the much-abused seating.  The hands and weapons gained speed, sliding through the gloom, past the glowing tentacles, and up into that partly nebulous body. 

“How are you doing that?” Grace asked.

“You figure it out.  Now, where do you suppose that creature keeps its brain?”

Onyx spoke from behind me.  “Want me to find out?”

“Stop sneaking up on me,” I grumbled.  “And yeah, I want to know where its brain is.  Can you pinpoint it without getting yourself eaten by that thing?”

His voice went deep, telling me he was stripping away the illusion of humanity, becoming pure darkness.  “Sure, I am nothingness, emptiness.  Emptiness cannot be consumed.”

Darkness swelled past me from behind.  I lost sight.  Cold stole my heat.  The worst part of it was the sensation that something primal and terribly hungry was breathing down my neck, wondering if I were tasty.  I held still.  A moment later, the darkness filling the hall contracted.  I looked to the side.  Grace was there, and Onyx looking like the goofy kid he wanted us to believe he was.  The look in Grace’s eyes told me she knew this, too, and didn’t care because she carried the same darkness.  I think she did a better job pulling human off since she’d been raised that way by a human stepmother.

Onyx pointed at the main hump near the top.  “There are electrical patterns there, a mind of sorts.  Very primitive.  If you start on top, I’d go down six or seven feet.”

“Thanks,” I said.

With shadow magic, I’d been piloting my guns around the floating beast.  I figured the outer shell was too hard.  I need a soft entry point.  I went in through the eyes.  The semi-automatics pierced the lens, the ocular fluid, and zipped along what was probably the optic nerve.  This became difficult as the beast flinched and thrashed.  Its tentacles broke off, falling to the floor.

Hurts, huh?

Guessing I was just about where I needed to be, I willed my shadow hands to fire the guns.  There were red bursts seen through the creature’s cloudy hide.  It whipped about, churning, and tore itself apart. 

“Yes, got you!  And that’s how it’s done.”

“Not exactly,” Grace said.  “Look.”

I did.  The part of it with the damaged brain turned dark and stiff, tumbling to the floor where it shattered a section of seating.  The other half of it assumed more of a tri-corner shape, resuming stability with three sprouting eyes.  I was willing to bet it had also grown several auxiliary brains as well.  The eyes were covered by clear shells for added protection.  It also developed a wide slash of a mouth.  The slash opened to show teeth that bore a strong resemblance to cave formations.  Stalactites and stalagmites locked with rumbling crunches.  Without trailing appendages to anchor it, the smaller beast tumbled in an unbalanced rotation that made it harder to hit.

I screamed at it.  “Why the fuck won’t you die!”

It screamed a response, a sound like Tukka’s roar, beating across us all.

The thing wasn’t really smart, but it was a hell of a mimic.

Rasputin and Cassie were back with Madison.  She had several anti-tank missiles.  The slayer said, “You would not believe what I had to go through to get these.”

“Try them,” I said.  “I don’t think it will help.”

“So what do we do?” Onyx asked.

“Good question,” I said.

I watched Madison set up, bracing a tube on her shoulder.  Realizing he was going to swallow the backlash, Tukka ran out from behind her.  She fired.  The missile streaked and exploded against the creature’s shell.  Its lips parted a little and a grating sound emerged.   

It’s laughing at us,” I said.

Unexpectedly, the creature lost the glow of its life energy, the blue-purple shine inside its translucent body dimming to a pale gray shimmer muted by its crystalline crust. 

“I just had a terrible thought,” I said.

Grace and Onyx answered in unison: “What?”

“What if this is just a larval state and what’s coming next is even worse?”

“How much worse can it get?” Rasputin asked.

I turned to Onyx.  “Can your shadow eat that thing, maybe contain it?  You extend to other spaces, you said.  Is there some place you can strand it?”

“And make it someone else’s problem?  No.  To be on Grace’s world, I have to follow the rules her father sets for our kind.  I am forbidden from doing as you say.”

“I wouldn’t tell,” I said.

“Shadow men cannot keep secrets from each other.  By touching, what one of us knows the others find.”  He looked at Grace.  “I will do nothing that cuts me off from her, no matter how many of your kind must perish.”

Grace blushed, but contrary wise, frowned at him.  “People are important.  You’re supposed to care about them.”

“Would you say that if you hadn’t been raised human?” Onyx asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Grace said.  “That’s how I
was
raised.” 

“I have a plan,” I admitted, a chill sliding down my spine.  “It’s highly dangerous, and I know I’m not going to like it.”

Madison shot off another rocket with no greater success, and said a mildly bad word.

Cassie turned her smile on me.  “What are you waiting for?”

THIRTY-SEVEN

“A good curse goes a long way.”

                                  —Caine Deathwalker

The mysterious Virgil and Janet d’Arc were waiting when I stepped down from the damaged magic-user’s truck with the warded spell box in my hand.  The container was a one of those the sorceress normally used to store mystic relics in.  It was rectangular, steel, and just big enough for the white jade flute to go into.  The outside of the box had sigils, runes, and mystic sign from dozens of cultures engraved into the metal.  Their purpose was to keep the sealed object inert and safe.  Nobody had wanted to give me the flute or Hastings, but I needed them both to make this work.  Paul Hastings still wore cuffs, but they were in front, not in back as was protocol.  I needed him able to use his hands.  Still, I had to help him down out of the truck.

“You don’t need to keep the cuffs on,” Hastings said.  “We have a deal.  I’ll do my part.”

Virgil stared coldly at him.  “Yes, you will.  And you’ll wear the cuffs until what we need is done.”

“Your record will be wiped clean,” I said, “and you’ll be left with the flute.  My word on it as a demon lord.”  I stared at Virgil to make sure he understood what I wanted.

He nodded slightly.  Everything I needed would be done.  He would follow my direction in this. 

“I still don’t like it.”  Janet glared with disgust at Hastings.  “You’ll getting off way too lightly.”

He stared back at the sorceress.  “Oh, so you never killed anyone?  I can tell that you have.  I bet you liked it, too.”

She lunged at him. 

Virgil caught her.  “Stick to the plan.  It’s the best we got without bringing in a small, tactical nuke.”

“Virgil, you’ve cleared the property?”

“Only Onyx is near the creature, keeping it distracted.  I’ve got to get me a shadow man.  They’re damn handy to have around.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to pry him away from Grace.”  I kept the box under my arm and shoved Hastings toward the Music Hall.  “Let’s get started.”

He walked toward the building, and the monster he’d created, and he whistled a little tune in perfect pitch, with perfect timing, the way a robot might.  We passed a Rasputin.  He stood ready to do his part the next time we came this way. 

He nodded curtly to me.  “I hope you know what you are doing, Caine.”

I smiled.  “I’m almost positive.”

Hastings looked Rasputin over and then shifted his face toward me.  “What’s his part in the plan?”

“He’s insurance that the monster won’t catch us until we want him to.”  I went on across the partially cleared parking lot and into the building, keeping one eye on my prisoner.  Inside the lobby, he said, “Caine, that’s a nice name.  The name of a killer.”

I didn’t look at him.  “Yes.  It is.”

“You like to kill, don’t you?”

“Sometimes.  Sometimes, it’s just a job that needs doing.  But unlike you, I only kill people one time.”

“So you’re so much better than me?” Hastings laughed.  “That’s funny.”  There were still a lot of bodies lying around.  A lot of ugliness.  A lot of blood.  Once we were gone, the authorities would move in and clean up what would be officially labeled a terrorist bombing.  The school would not be reopening.

We reached the double doors to the auditorium.  They were open;
all
doors and windows were open in a desperate attempt to ventilate the space.  The returning cleanup crew were going to need hazmat gear.  My half-dragon physiology gave me toughness and some scented Vaseline under my nose helped block a lot of the stench.  Hastings loved death.  I wanted him to

come in unprotected and get a good look at it.

We walked down an aisle I’d seen way too much of and looked up the tricorner beast.  It floated inside a spiral of darkness, unable to push past Onyx, bidding its time.  Meanwhile, it had continued to modify itself.  The outer shell had prickly, glass like spines.  They seemed to dance with high voltage cores.  I wouldn’t be surprised if the spines could be launched like missiles.  
So nice of Madison to teach it that.  This thing must have a highly rewritable genetic code.

Hastings stood enraptured.  “So beautiful.”

“Yeah, but it’s too dangerous to leave wandering around.  You’re going to help us coral it.”

Hastings looked at me.  “I said I’d help, and I will.  I don’t want indiscriminate killing.  Death is an art.  Mass killing has no beauty.  It’s imprecise and leaves nothing to savor, but ugliness.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket.  I took it out and read a text: GOT IT.  ON MY WAY.

A moment later, a hole in space opened up.  Izumi stepped out of the portal.  Hot as hell, for a winter fey.  Her white hair gleamed like ice.  She wore an off-the-shoulder dress of pale blue.  Smiling a greeting, she hurried over, kissed me, and handed me an open band with a lock and a small charge of C4 attached to a radio transmitter.  At least, that was what I told her to make the thing look like.

“Stay safe,” she said. 

“Go,” I said.  “I’m working.”

She left and I put the collar on Hastings.  He struggled a little.  I was forced to bitch slap him.  “Behave.  This will come off when it’s time.  I’m giving you the flute, but if you use it on me, a dead man’s switch will blow your head clean off.  I have to take the precaution.  You understand.”

“Indeed I do.  Trust is so hard to come by in this cold world.”

I let him see me holding a small box with a button on it, something Virgil’s guys had whipped up in no time.  I pushed the button and held it in.  “There, betray me and die.”  I handed him the box with the flute in it.  “Alright, piper, do your job.”

With cuffed hands, he took out the flute.  It had no ill effect on him; he knew its secrets.  He played a slow, experimental riff.  I felt nothing trying to get hold of me.  I yelled to Onyx.  “You’re done.  Get out of here.”

The black coil collapsed and became a man.  He walked away without looking back.  No fuss.  Very low drama.  One of the things I liked about him.

The creature spun and looked around, one of its eyes spying Hastings and me.  He created it, but that was before its rebirth.  I didn’t know if any of those memories survived.  Still, the flute had shaped it, nurtured it, and commanded its energies.  If nothing else, the relic would dominate by shear force being incredibly powerful.  We’d see how powerful now.

The melody touched it.  The hate in its eyes died down.  It settled lower, drawn by the sound.  Then it was swooping in faster. 

I shoved Hastings.  “Run.”

We hurried up the aisle, and out the doors.  As we crossed the lobby, it exploded a section of wall, making itself an exit.  I looked briefly back.  Several of those glowing spines were gone.  I’d been right about their use.  Hastings and I went out into the parking lot as the creature paused to reorient on us.  I didn’t look back as another explosion sounded.  We ran straight toward Rasputin, knowing the thing was hot on our trail.

I could almost feel its hunger for the music, for the flute.  That desire was like a sunburn on the back of my neck.  We’d hooked our fish.

A lens of air appeared, one where light bent in distortion.  Hastings and I hit that lens and we were over by the Victorian mansion, Raspy by our sides.  “I hope you can keep doing that,” I said.  “The energy drain must be hell.”

“I fed heavily while you were working out your plans,” he said.  “Rest assured, I will do my part.”

“And I will get you Cassie’s home phone number,” I promised.

“You had better not fail me,” Rasputin warned.  “It is an affair of the heart.”

Yeah, maybe you’ll grow on her.

I snapped at Hastings.  “Play.”

He did, but I don’t think it was sound alone that drew the monster’s attention to us.  He turned in the night wind and chugged our way, full steam, the little train that could.  We ran around the mansion to its back and up onto the crest of the hill.  Section by section, jump by jump, we led him cross-country to the hidden cemetery.  It wasn’t visible at first, but—as Hastings played—the gate faded into view.  The headstones beyond marked countless victims to his madness. 

Rasputin swung open the gate to the pocket dimension.  Hastings went in and began to play.  I went up to Rasputin.  “I’ve got it from here,” I said.

Rasputin stared into my eyes.  “I have seen into this mortal’s soul.  It is a filthy, damned thing.”

“I won’t argue,” I said.

“Hmmmph.  And their kind calls us monsters.”

I shrugged.  “Truth is, we all are, one way or another.  Some folk just hide it really well.  Some are just tiny monsters.  It’s those that don’t cage their darkness that make more work for the rest of us.”

Rasputin laughed at that and walked away.   After a few steps, a lens of air and light whisked him away, and the laughter died.

The flute music soared, haunting, beautiful, and sinister all at once.  Answering, the monster floated into view, only a hundred feet in the air, closing fast.  The reaper stopped playing as the monster over shot him and made a broad turn.  Hastings returned to the gate, holding the flute laxly in his hand.  “I’ve kept my word.  You keep yours.” 

“I will.”  The black helicopter had near silent rotors.  I had to strain my dragon hearing to pick up the whisper.  Virgil was up there, my ride home. 

A red dot appeared over Hasting’s heart, the laser sight of a sniper rifle locking on.  Hastings didn’t see it.  He didn’t see a lot of things.  These next few seconds were going to be highly educational. 

I took my finger off the button.

Hastings stared, tense, eyes bugging out.  His head stayed on.  No explosion.

“Ah, I see,” he said.  “You were bluffing.”

“Not really.  That was a dead man’s switch.  But the signal wasn’t meant for you.  It simply tells Virgil we’re done, so he can do his part.”

Hasting’s smile went a bit crooked.  “His part?”

I stepped aside, as if to let him out. 

A hole appeared in his heart.  Blood burst from his chest and his back.  He fell back as the sound of the shot washed over us.  I closed the door, letting him keep the flute as I’d promised. 
I am a man of my word—sometimes. 
I closed the gate, completing the circuit.  The graveyard faded away.  With luck, it would never be found again.

The helicopter landed and I strolled over.  I climbed in the back, sitting behind Virgil and his rifle.  “Nice shooting,” I said.

“Coming from you, that’s a compliment.”

Ignoring us, the pilot lifted into the air.

I looked at Virgil.  “What do you mean by that?”

“You think we don’t know, but we do.  You’ve taken out a number of questionable targets over the last few years.  On the whole, though, they’ve been necessary to keeping the public peace, and have served the public good.  If that changes, expect an unpleasant visit from Cassie.”

I shrugged.  “I’m fine with that, as long as you’re fine with the Red Lady burning this country to ashes if you do.”

He was quiet a long time as we flew back to the conservatory. 

Finally he said, “Okay, I see your point.”