Authors: Morgan Blayde
Tags: #Dark Fantasy, #Horror, #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction
Lillian stared. “My heavens!”
“Don’t go anywhere. This shouldn’t take long.” I smiled, my version of a battle mask. I lunged into the swarm, fanning the air with my hands. The flames rippled and
. And did nothing to the lights, but that confirmed their nature. The lights flew through the fire as if it weren’t there. My hands went through the lights, touching nothing. Feeling nothing. My little visitors weren’t magical or electromagnetic. I closed down the tat. The dragon fire thinned to nothing.
“Spirits, and not the kind you can drink.” I felt thirsty, in danger of becoming sober.
I need to deal with this situation quickly
Lillian clutched the door frame, the door propped opened by her butt. Her gaze clung to me. “What
Time for bullshit.
“The Dark Angel of the Abyss, the Guardian of Hell, and the last, best hope of mankind. Fear me! Worship me. Fuck me!”
She sank to her knees, clutching her robe lapels. “Yes, my Lord.”
I had the feeling her next book was going to really rock.
The cage of whirling lights sped faster, constricting, limiting my space even more. I used a trickle of raw magic to awaken my
tattoo; the ink band around the base of my neck warmed. Pain paid for my magic. It felt like someone was trying to guillotine me with a baseball bat. I rocked in place, clenched my fists, and kept my face blank; looking weak was for wimps. Pouring force of will into my tone, I spoke with a command voice not dissimilar from that which powerful vampires employ on occasion.
“I command you spirits to flee and resist my will no more.”
Being sentient—if dead—they understood me, and that understanding opened the door for my dragon magic to affect them. They peeled off and flew through the ceiling, leaving me triumphant, a metaphysical sword lifted to the bloody heavens of my imagination, the sword of my cock equally defiant.
My gaze fell upon Lillian. I frowned at her covered flesh. “Lose the robe, get on the bed, and prepare to be ravished!” My
all but lifted her to her feet, nearly flinging her across the room. The air shivered with power as Lillian hit the bed, the robe fluttering in the air behind her. She dived onto the comforter and rolled onto her back, spreading her legs. I smelled her moisture and her need. She moaned like a bitch in heat. “Oh, take me, damn you. Now!”
The soul of mercy, I didn’t force her to beg any longer. As I leaped after her, my cock yelled,
“It’s not what it looks like.
Okay, maybe it is.”
Hours later, Shiva and Holy Grail burst into the room. Shiva skidded to a stop and stood watching as Lillian shrieked in ecstasy from under the pillow I held against her head. She collapsed, still impaled in a doggie position.
Shiva leaped forward and seized the pillow, wrenching it away, flinging it across the room.
I know it looked like I was trying to suffocate Lillian, but that wasn’t it; her screaming hurt my ears. I didn’t have time to explain this because her vaginal milking brought me to an explosive release of my own. My heart hammered. I breathed heavily, my hands on the small of Lillian’s back. Recovering, I glared at the intrusion, but wasn’t that mad; Lillian had clearly reached her limits, even if I hadn’t.
It’s not easy being a sexual behemoth.
Holy picked up my clothes, came around Shiva, and stared at Lillian’s limp form. “My god, what have you done to her?”
“I’ll let you figure it out.” With a loud squishy sound, I withdrew from Lillian. “Better yet, perhaps you’d like a demonstration?”
Forgetting which one of us she was supposed to be protecting, Shiva pushed Holy back from the bed. Shiva averted her eyes as I slid off the side of the bed and came around for my clothes. My swaying cock was softer, growing flaccid, but still of a very respectable length. Holy swallowed a startled gasp, handing me my things as I reached out my hands.
Shiva said, “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. When we heard blood-curdling screams, we reacted appropriately.”
“You didn’t think to just call me on the phone?”
The girls looked blankly at each other.
Slipping into pants, zipping up, sliding into my shirt, I decided I’d had enough fun for now. I needed to get on the job, and that meant finding out about the spirits running amok around here. I sat on the foot of the bed and finished dressing, considering my next move.
“Holy, did you find the control room for the cameras, and the camera crew?”
She didn’t look me in the face, too busy blushing, but she did answer. “Of, course. I know my job.”
“Where’s the room?” I asked.
“I’d better show you,” Holy said.
“Fine.” I stood and moved away from the bed.
Lillian reached after me. Delirious, half asleep, she muttered. “No … don’t go. We haven’t cuddled yet.”
I hurried and left the room, my security team falling in behind me.
No rest for the wicked.
Broken windows created a cross-breeze in the structure, raising dust. A shoddy hall with creaking floor boards led me to stairs. I took them. Another hall led me to a back-of-the-building, second-story room. Shiva and Holy took position outside the door, on guard against dust devils and red-eyed rats.
Entering the room was like teleporting onto the bridge of a starship. Not that I’d done that.
Teresa looked over as I approached. Panic flashed in her eyes, quickly hidden. Her compensating smile was too large. A Czarbucks coffee cup steamed in her hand. I smelled coffee, cinnamon, and whipped cream. She pushed off of a backless stool, standing. “Caine, can I help you with something?”
I waved her back. “Just getting the lay of the land.”
There were three others in the room, manning a long desk that butted up against a wall covered with monitors. Two of the three crew members wore headphones with mic stems. Their hands hovered over controls, ready to pounce.
The third person was a young, willowy woman wearing a tool belt, a tan ball cap, and khaki slacks. Her polo shirt was a shade that balanced between salmon and pink. Her bright pink sneakers had watermelon green laces. She wore green-dyed hair in a ponytail and over-large glasses.
An escapee from an anime.
She looked up at me. Her glasses caught the lighting, hiding her eyes, dehumanizing her face. But a flush of color warmed her cheeks. She ducked her head, looking down again at a black box in her hands, its open case displaying obscure electronics. She ripped out a battery and popped a new one in. I saw the little antennae then.
Wireless mic system. I’m going to have to watch everything I say around Teresa. She could be sporting a hidden mic.
I smiled like a shark swimming past a tuna. “So, it seems to me like you’re already watching everything and recording the reality stars. You plan on using this material in the show, right?”
The two guys with headphones now turned to look at me. One was bald, old, looking somewhat pasty in his Metallica T-shirt. His brindle and gray mustache bristled. The other was a twenty-something kid-faced geek who probably played World of Warcraft in his spare time while chewing pizza.
Moving quickly, Teresa came around to block my view of her people and what they were doing. “We need to be ready to go to work as soon as you fix things around here.”
Teresa called over to tech-girl. “Christie, have you tracked down that intermittent fault that keeps shutting off cameras?”
“Not yet, but I’m close.”
. I heard it in her voice, in her heartbeat, too. I wondered why.
One of the screens caught my eye. It displayed Lillian’s bedroom. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, naked. From the angle, it seemed likely that a hidden camera was in her chandelier.
That’s why I hadn’t seen it. They don’t want the “stars” to know their privacy is being totally invaded. Teresa probably has fine print in everyone’s contracts letting her get away with this.
It hit me like a brick.
These guys have a record of my sexual exploits
I had a mental vision of that footage leaking, showing up on TV or in the tabloids, our naughty bits blurred out in attempted modesty.
This isn’t really keeping a low profile. The Old Man will beat me senseless. Mental note: get ahold of a crew member privately, wave some cash around, and get the recording deleted—except for a personal copy for my private vault.
I could have threatened horrific violence, but that tends to get me fired. If I got fired, I was pretty sure they wouldn’t pay me.
I flashed Teresa another smile. “Well, carry on. I have work to do.”
I walked out. Shiva and Holy fell in on either side of me. I decided to rattle their cages. “You guys missed all the excitement. I was attacked in Lillian’s room earlier.”
“Are you sure you weren’t the one doing the attacking?” Holy asked.
“Not that she was complaining,” Shiva added.
“I am being protected by idiots.” I sighed dramatically, the weight of the world on my shoulders. “A supernatural threat materialized, a swarm of spirits. I drove them off before you finally arrived to
“Holy crap!” Holy said.
“Shit!” Shiva said.
“Way to get the job done.” I said. “Holy?”
“Before we leave, it might be necessary for you to accidentally fry that room with a freak electric storm.”
“Accidently?” she said.
“Accidentally, as in
, and don’t get caught,” Shiva said.
“Oh!” Holy nodded with understanding. “I get it. You know, they could have cloud back-up of their footage.”
“Can you handle that, too?” I asked.
Holy smirked at me. “I’m a weather mage. Clouds are my thing.”
I’d picked these girls for their hotness, not their piercing intelligence or security skill sets. Apparently, I hadn’t chosen too badly.
“So, we’re dealing with ghosts?” Shiva asked. “Are we equipped to do that?”
“Not directly. Anybody got a local witch on speed dial?” Walking along the wall where the chances were lower of us falling through a rotted board, we took a rickety flight of stairs down to the ground floor. Arriving, I didn’t really feel safer; after all, the whole building could come crashing down on my head in a stiff wind at any time.
I should have asked for hazard pay for this job.
We returned to the cafeteria and strolled in. Clifford and Deedee were at a table with Rooster. Lillian was absent, but I saw someone new; an androgynous Goth in black everything, including hair and eyes. The features reminded me of someone with South American Indian blood. A game of poker appeared to be underway. The group clutched cards and had stacked potato chips in front of them, the kind that come from a can. From the smell, it seemed that different flavors represented different denominations. It seemed to be high stakes game.
My inner dragon woke up. Golden eyes slitted open in the back shadows of my mind.
We could buy in,
Make a little cash.
I stood near the table, behind Rooster. He held a pair of twos, a five, ten, and jack. He threw in the pair on a chance to fill a royal straight, drawing three cards.
Oh, yeah, we got to get in this game.
“Got room for one more?” I asked.
“After this hand,” Rooster said. “Drag a chair over. And I sure hope you have the cash to cover your losses. We don’t take checks.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
I pointed a finger at a folding chair and back to Holy.
She smiled. “I’m good.”
I stared at her. “The chair’s for me.”
“Oh.” She went to get it.
“She seems to be spacing out more and more,” I muttered.
Shiva sighed. “Distracted. Her girlfriend broke up with her by text on the way out here. Holli is heart-broken. Give her a break.”
“She’s at least bi-sexual, I hope.” No hot woman should miss out on experiencing me. That would be just too cruel.
Rooster cursed as he threw in his cards. The hand had not gone well for him. He scooted over, widening the space between him and Deedee. I took the chair from Holy, placed it, and sat at the table. Clifford gave me a dirty look. I thought he might not like me so close to Deedee.
He said, “You’re not going to shoot anyone if you lose, right?”
Ah, that’s his problem.
I fanned my coat to show them no hidden holster. “No weapons on me.”
Not that I can’t summon one in a heartbeat.
Deedee raked in her winnings and pointed at the chips. “Plain are ten dollars. Sour cream and onion are twenty. Barbeque are fifty. And the biscuit and gravy flavored are a hundred.”
“Hmmm. Can I just use cash? I don’t want to get my hands dirty. Someone might accuse me of marking cards that way.”
Rooster frowned at the cards on the table being scooped up by Clifford. They stared at each other and spoke in unison. “New deck.” They cast suspicious glances at Deedee who contrived to look especially innocent somehow. She smiled brightly. “Let’s
use cash—or items of actual value. Gold and jewels are acceptable.”
I pulled out my wallet and removed a thick stack of twenties and hundreds.
Clifford stared at the money. “Lord have mercy! You always carry that much?”
“Never know when you might run into a poker game,” I said.
Rooster frowned. “I can’t cover that much.” He brightened suddenly. “Hey, I’ve got a sixty-nine Mustang. Give me credit against the title.”
I perked. “Really? It’s in good shape?”
“Freshly restored,” Rooster said. “My pride and joy.”
Not for long.
My inner dragon drooled and licked his chops.
Clifford reached into a coat pocket and pulled out a couple packs of cards. They were the sealed kind a casino might use. I lifted an eyebrow at that.
He said, “Teresa got these for me when I told her that I played professional poker on the side.”
Rooster glared at him. “You’re a card shark!”
“I don’t cheat. I just know the odds a little better than most folks. If I was really good with cards, I’d have a whole chain of restaurants by now.”
Rooster relaxed. “Oh, okay.”
Clifford showed us the deck and broke the seal. He broke the cards in with ruffling and a few tricks of dexterity.
“I like a man good with his hands,” Deedee said.
As Clifford dealt, I leaned over and whispered to her. “If I smell magic on the cards, I’ll flay you alive and rub sea salt in the wounds before stitching your skin back on—with iron wire. You’ll wish I weren’t good with my hands.”