Green Flame Assassin (Demon Lord series, book 2) (24 page)

My blood dribbled from the corner of her gaping mouth, dripping onto her naked breasts.  Her eyes opened.  Her pink irises were now red rimmed and the pupils were tiny little slits.  She looked so hot.

I put my muzzle right between her eyes, making a threat that I thought might back her off.  “You know I will.”

“Bastard!”

The red rim faded from her eyes.  The pink darkened to black.  An angry black. 

“Are we done here?” I asked.

“We are so done!” she gritted out the words.  “We are beyond done.  We are forever done.”

“Good.”  I thought about making some joke about getting a rabies shot, but my sense of self-preservation kicked in just in time, for once.

“Just one more thing.”  I holstered my weapon, and pulled her face to mine, kissing her hard.  She resisted maybe half a second, then kissed me back with withering passion.

The backseat doors jerked open.  I was pulled away from Vivian by black-suited dhampyrs, and dumped on the sidewalk like an empty bag of blood.  The dhampyr entered the vehicle from both sides, gently easing Vivian out.  She still had that slightly greenish cast to her face.  Worry gnawed on me as they carried her into the building lobby.  I followed, but was stopped at the security desk inside.

A six-foot guard with black sunshades, hair, and goatee stepped into my path.  He said, “We’ll take it from here.  We know what to do.”

“I doubt that,” I said.  “She was burnt by a preternatural.  Poisoned, maybe, by its fire.”

“We have fey healers that service our community.  Since she’s not dead yet, she’ll probably be all right.”

“I’m going with her.”

The guard shook his head no.  “Mr. Mason is coming down.  He asked for you to wait.  He has questions.”

I considered ripping the guard’s head off, for presuming to give me orders, but remembered Old Man expected me to show diplomatic skills on this mission.  So I glowered, graciously.  “You want me to wait
here
?  Where are your manners?”

He smiled like he meant no
thing by it.  “This way, please.  Can I get you some coffee to swill?  Maybe some orange juice and a cookie?”

I pulled out my gun, shot him in the knee,
a wrist, then the other knee, and walked off.  “I don’t think I like your tone.”

He hobbled on one leg, dragging the other, cursing with great feeling as the bloody knee spat out the bullet, healing quickly. 

Spurred by the gunfire, another dhampyr guard lunged over. 

I tracked him with my gun, as he slowed, not wanting to startle me into taking another shot.  He gestured toward a bank of elevators, his voice mellow and soothing, “I’ll take you to a conference room where you can relax and wind down
.  I imagine you’re still feeling the stress of combat.  I’ll have some refreshments—”

“White wine,” I said, “and send Mason straight to me when he gets here.  I don’t like to wait.”

“Yes, Sir, I’ll see to it.”

Giving my brain a rest, I quieted my thoughts, riding the elevator up several floors as insipid elevator music played.  I allowed myself to be guided down a hall with cream colored carpet to a pale blue door.  The glass was frosted. 

My guide opened the door and ushered me in.  Another boardroom.  I was really seeing too many of them lately.  The table was cherry wood.  The high-backed chairs were black lacquer.  There were no windows looking out.  I went to the side of the room where a dove gray couch kept company with a green glass coffee table.  Magazines were spread out. 
Forbes, Money, Time,
and the
Wall Street Journal.
  I flopped on the couch and looked at the dhampyr.  “What?” I said.  “
No Soldier of Fortune
?  What about
Guns and Ammo
?”

He half smiled, backing to the door.  “I’ll see what I can do, Ambassador Caine.”

Ambassador Caine, I like that.  About time I started getting some respect from these guys.

I put my feet up, my head back, and stared at the ceiling tiles.  They were the kind with dots in them.  After a while, my mind connected the dots.  I began to see faces.  Big, fanged, bestial faces.  Monster faces.  What was that name the assassin had used?  What had answered her?  I sighed.  I should have paid more attention at the time. 

The door opened and Josh walked in.  His blond hair was wet from a shower.  He wore a borrowed black suit—that was tight on him—with black glasses hiding his eyes.  I wouldn’t have known him except he was oversized even for dhampyr muscle, and there was his smell.  My heightened senses had been dialed way low, stunned since the burning building.  They were apparently back now because I could smell the liger from across the room.  Not an unpleasant scent, just not human.

“Where you been?” I asked.

“It’s surprising the places you can aimlessly wander into when you look like you belong.  They’ve got Vivian on the top floor.  She’s comfortable, and a healer’s on the way.”

Something deep inside unclenched a little, which was ridiculous since Vivian was only a piece of ass to me, and a dependable soldier in most situations. 
I’m a demon lord, fer Christ’s sake.  I use people.  I don’t get attached.  Bad for business.

My stomach rumbled.  I’d used a lot of energy burning magic.  Normal cloaking magic is draining.  I’d expanded my output to conceal a whole car for minutes.  Fatigue set in along with hunger.

“Don’t worry.”  Josh sauntered across the room, snagging a chair from the table as he went by.  He pulled the chair over to the couch.  “I’ve sent some of the boys off for some Chinese take-out.  It should be here soon.”

“They give you grief about that?” I asked.

He loomed over me, grinning.  “Nah, I just reminded them that this human form hides a thousand pound, ravenous beast that scares werewolves.  They were more than happy to get me food, before I started looking at
them
.”  He paused, crossing his arms across his chest, settling into the chair to wait.   “Like I’d eat people.  Really, I ought to be insulted.  I’ll forgive the slight if they come back with the shrimp fu young and general chicken.”

“You know,” I said, “we’re going to be hungry an hour later.”

He shrugged.  “I’m always hungry an hour later.”

He picked up a magazine, skimmed it, and dropped it within minutes.

“Listen,” I said.  “Did you get a good look at that thing the assassin called up?  A demon maybe?”

He shook his head no.  “Too much smoke and weird green light.  Bigger than me is all I know, which is remarkable all by itself.  Still, I’ve got its scent locked in my head, for whatever good that will do.  After I’ve eaten…”

The door opened and Mason walked in.

“…I’ll go back to the waterfront and see if I can pick up its trail.”

“That won’t be useful,” Mason said.  “Whatever the burning creature was, it slammed through another building, crossed to the River Park, and took a dive into the Sacramento River.  A water fey shed his human glamour and went into the water after the beast.”  He paused.

“And?” I asked.

“Lot of blood in the water.  The fey got eaten.  You want to tell me what we’re dealing with and why it wants you dead?” Mason asked.

I grinned.  “I stand high among the demon clans.  There’s a very long list of people who want me dead so they can piss on my grave.  While we’re talking about enemies, you got any idea who’s tracking that car of yours?  We found a radio transmitter underneath.”

He looked at me with genuine shock on his face.  “That can’t be possible.  We have our vehicles checked out every day.  A sensible precaution.”

“Sure,” Josh said.  “Which means it’s someone in your own outfit keeping tabs on you.”

“Division in the ranks.”  I shook my head sadly.  “You got any enemies you want to tell
us
about?”

“Not now.”  His eyes scanned the room quickly.  “Not here.”

I nodded.  “Then Josh will fill you in on the details of our night’s adventures.  I’m going to see how Vivian is doing.”

SEVENTEEN

“I’m faithful to every woman I’m

bedding, until I get up and go.”

                                   
           —Caine Deathwalker

              The room Vivian occupied was easy enough to find, once I got off on the right floor.  Her scent drew me like a stalking werewolf: sweat and blood, smoke, and a hint of cucumber-and-melon perfume.  No one was in the hall.  She was a guest, not a prisoner.  I opened an office door and ambled in.  Vivian lay on a leather couch.  Another dhampyr woman sat in a recliner near her. 

I scanned the rest of the room.  One wall was all windows, the vertical blinds cranked open so the city lights could be seen.  Indirect lighting circled the edges of the ceiling, highlighting bookcases, and objects of art.  Someone overly fond of Wild West paintings also owned a three-foot bronze of an Indian—on a pony—in a posture of deep dejection as if white invaders had just burned down his village.

              Motion drew my stare from the general inspection.  An unknown woman—in black blazer, knee-length skirt, and three-inch heels—rose smoothly, turning a frown of disapproval my way.  “She’s resting.  You don’t need to be here.”

             
I pulled my gun, let it hang at my side, and stared at her right knee, imagining a bullet hole in it.

             
She spoke over her shoulder to Vivian.  “I’ll be outside the door.  If you need anything, just scream.”  She passed, deliberately not looking at me.