Green Flame Assassin (Demon Lord series, book 2) (3 page)

I went on, heading for the exit with my single, carry-on bag in one hand, the stuffed green dragon in the other.  Outside, the sun was a red haze on the horizon.  Lined up taxis waited for fares.  Ignoring them, I fished my phone out of a pocket, putting it away again as I saw Osamu cruising up in the black limo I’d gotten him.  The vehicle stopped.  I stalked over as he got out.  The black uniform suited him, as did the .38 special that bulged under his jacket.  His aged Japanese features, darkened by sun, were contradicted by the youthful energy of his bouncy walk.

As I arrived, he opened the back passenger door, took my bag, and threw it in the trunk.  I kept the stuffed dragon with me as I got in and slammed the car door shut.  Osamu came around and took his place behind the wheel.  I had a clear view since the divider window separating front from back was rolled down.  Belting up, he turned in the seat to throw me a grin over his shoulder.  “Caine-sama, I hope all went well.”

“Yes, it did.  How’s the hand?”

Osamu lifted his right hand, showing me the palm was no longer bandaged.  The demon mark I’d put there looked fully healed.  He’d proven allergic to the dragon-blood ink that gave me my magic.  We’d had to use the old way of doing things, a branding iron steeped in demon magic.  Now, he could summon a sword from thin air just like me. 

He said, “The blade still comes inadvertently sometimes.  I’m working on getting it right.”

“Good.”

As I relaxed, he sent the car easing ahead.  Between my jobs, Osamu insists on driving me around.  And because good combat butlers are hard to come by, I’d ended up getting a fully armored car with top-of-the-line magical protections installed.  I got the stretch version because the Old Man’s part giraffe, muscle bound, and wouldn’t shut the hell up about leg and elbow room.

“Caine-sama, the bar has been stocked as you requested.  And the PPKs you
mirrored
home are inside as well.”

I looked at a gap in the wrap-around seating where a built-in bar held a selection of rum, whiskey, and fine white wine.  I
shed my coat, pulled out my guns and harness, and put them on.  Then I drank from a rum bottle. 
First drink home is always the best.
  “Good job, just what I needed.”  I took several more pulls.  By then, we were clearing the airport.

“Take Pacific so I can see
Venice Beach.” 
Girls in bikinis, one of the many reasons I stay in California.
  After I’d feasted my eyes, we continued down the Pacific Coast Highway.  Our headlights cut the deepening gloom.  We swept past numerous creatures of the night mimicking humankind.  They did their best to blend in, but I knew what to look for.

I said, “By the way, have the wolves been behaving?”

“William-san has been diligent in training the new wolves, but many still lack control.”

“That’s normal.”  They were made during the night of the red moon, and were still young.  William was an evil I put up with, an Alpha wolf in my demon territory.  He’d sided with my enemies once.  I didn’t trust him as far as I could piss.  If he weren’t useful, I’d have no reason to let him live. 

Thinking of the red moon, of the alternate dimension where I’d met the Red Lady, I absently rubbed the
Dragon-and-Lotus
tattoo on my right forearm.  This was the strongest magic I had.  The tattoo summoned the red moon, opening a door to
Her,
to a realm I’d avoided all these months since last time, I almost didn’t made it out.  The Red Lady haunted my dreams.  She’d claimed that, in time, I’d find my place at her side.  Outside of linear time, she’d experienced this already.  Me?  I wasn’t convinced.  She was extra hot and all, but I don’t like being strong-armed into anything. 

The red pearl she’d given me hung under my shirt on a gold chain.  It flared, warming my skin. I smelled blood-soaked roses and I heard her soft laugh echoing in my head.  Her words fluttered in my soul like moths in search of a flame—
We are destined, my love
.

I scowled.
  We’ll see about that
.

Eventually, the limo pulled up to my
Malibu beach house—a mansion really—and parked inside the garage next to a black Mustang convertible with electric blue flames on the sides.  I got out, toy dragon under an arm, leaving my black duffle for Osamu to fetch.  An inner garage door led to the kitchen.  I passed through.  The living room was deserted.  I heard only my own soft tread as I took the short hall to my bedroom, opening the door. 

Leona sprawled on my bed, grinning, her long red tongue lolling past sharp white fangs.  Her rich black fur was well groomed.  Her tail lashed sluggishly.  Her green eyes burned with mystic fire.  She was an oversized spirit leopard from the Amazon jungle, just showing up a few years ago and—taking a liking to me, and my booze—had never left.

“Hey, Leona, off my bed.  I’m not into bestiality.”

She snapped her tail like a whip.  “The neighbor’s cat will be disappointed.”

I flipped her a one-finger salute.

She said, “Drag your mind from the gutter and tell me how the job went?”

“Great, even got to kill a fey from the Autumn Court.  He was playing bodyguard.”

She grumbled deep in her throat.  “Those guys are nasty.”

I threw my longcoat on the bed along with the stuffed toy.  Leona looked at the dragon, then back at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

I focused my mind downstairs in my office, visualizing the stereo, and rode out a jagged lash of pain that came as my raw magic turning it on, pumped the volume, and magically sent music echoing throughout the house;
Hello darkness my old friend... 
It was my way of letting the Old Man know I was back.

“Wow, really going old school there,” Leona said.  “Next, you‘ll be playing Sinatra’s greatest hits.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with that?  He had some really great songs.”

“If you say so.”

Before I could
dis
her for her techno-world fusion, my phone played Iron Maiden’s
Tears of the Dragon,
Old Man’s ring tone.

Fuck a virgin!  What the hell does he want?  He knows I just got back. 
I let the call go to voicemail.

Leona shook her head and sighed melodramatically, “Doesn’t anyone listen to anything new?”

The doorbell went off.

I warmed my newest tat to life, bit off a scream of searing agony, and projected part of my awareness down the hall, to the front entrance.  The follow-up knock on my front door was enough to split it in half, if not for the
new protective runes carved in the wood.  As it was, the door rattled on its hinges, groaning like a damned soul.

I drew one of my PPKs, splitting my awareness between the bedroom, and Osamu opening the front door.  He let in Old Man and two others.  Old Man didn’t need to knock.  He lived here with Leona and me.  He’d known my highly developed combat senses would kick in.  This was his  making sure he had my attention after I’d just ignored his call.

Machiavellian Bastard.

I hurried from my room, gun in hand, and found my uninvited guests in the living room with the Old Man.  He gave Osamu housekeeping instructions as I arrived.  My combat butler nodded and hurried off to prepare spare rooms and add a few place settings for dinner. 

I cut in front of Old Man, blocking the way to my office—I called it my office, but it’s actually a bar, complete with stools, mirrors, booze, plush carpeting, everything but a house band and a pole dancer.  I might have screamed just a little, “Old Man, what in hell is all this?  I just get back and you’re dragging business home?  I’m entitled to some down time.  It’s only fair to Angie, Izumi, and a hundred other bitches waiting on my call.”

Never seeing it coming, I got slapped on the back of the head by his fifth-dimensional
shadow hand. 
He said, “Don’t cuss, you have company.  Deal with it.  This is Achill, the Fenris over all the wolves in the U.S.  This is Kimberly, an envoy sent by our new client.  Haziar, the fey warrior behind her, is a bodyguard.”

Thoughts of Angie faded from my mind.
  Great, I just told the Fenris I’m fucking one of his people.

I put my PPK in my holster rig, opened the office door, and hurried in.  I moved behind the bar, my favorite spot in the house, and waited for everyone else to drifted in.  The Fenris and the bodyguard moved without sound, as expected of warriors.  On the other hand, the envoy wore heels no sensible fighter would try to maneuver in.  She had crystal-purple eyes that cataloged every weak point in the room.  This was someone who’d been attacked before and wanted to know where
things
could come at her from. 

She sat on a stool opposite me.  The recessed lighting in the ceiling over the bar gave her brunette hair and slightly tanned skin a gentle glow.  Her lips were red-violet.  Her white summer dress turned opalescent, catching some of the colors from the spotlighted liquor bottles behind me.  She had very soft features, fully human, so her purple eyes were unusual.  Behind her—clad in
pitch-black armor, wearing a matching cloak, and a crimson-sheathed sword—Haziar waited patiently for something to kill.

Old Man didn’t sit down either, watching as I pulled out Crown and Coke, and placed them on the counter.  His deep voice boomed at our guests, “
Achill, Kimberly, this is my son, Caine Deathwalker, dragon mage, and Red Moon Demon.”

I studied the Fenris in his dark, expensive suit.  Simply cut, it set off a lavender silk shirt that opened at the throat.  Wavy black hair flowed back to his collar.  The hint of a smile lurked at the corner of his mouth.  The whole vibe was casual cool.  Built like a linebacker, a little under six feet, with more muscle that he would ever need, he looked young for his responsibilities—until you noticed the eyes.  They were onyx pools, cold and dead.  Here was experience, and weariness beyond reason, as if his soul had been stretched thin across the blade of too many centuries.

“Caine,” Old Man gestured to Kimberley, “she’s human, but born with the
sight,
and adopted into the Dream Court of the fey.  That’s why she has a fey bodyguard.”

A seer, that explains amethyst eyes
.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Caine,” the Fenris said.  “Lau’s told me much about you during our games.”

“Would you like your drink in a bowl, on the floor?” I responded.

Eyes wide, Kimberly swung her face toward the Fenris.  She might have been seeing imminent violence as a seer, or she might just have expected it, knowing wolves.

Old Man’s eyes—now blue-green fireballs—were on me.  “Caine we talked about this.  The wolves don’t owe you tribute for being in our territory.  Achill is my friend.  He and his people get a free pass.”