Green Flame Assassin (Demon Lord series, book 2) (6 page)

I crossed the street and stood in the spot I’d arrived at.  I held up a hand, focusing my magic, and ran though a spell Old Man had taught me.  Accessing the mirror back home this way took some of my life force, but no penalty in pain from using my dragon-blood tattoos. 
It would be nice to move around this way all the time, but programing coordinates into the mirror was too time-intensive.

The portal opened, turning the air into a wavering mirror.  I stepped into my own image and returned to my bedroom.  The air was different, sweeter.  W
hy do I smell vanilla?

Catching a small flickering light from the corner of my eye, I looked at one of my nightstands.  There was a white votive candle burning there.  The bedding was changed.  The place had been straightened up by someone. 

Who has the balls to do this to my room?

I came around the foot of the bed, heading for the door.  The closet door flew open and I caught a flash of bright red hair.  A warm female body—quite naked—crashed into me.  I grabbed her ass purely by reflex.  Honest.

Angie shrieked, “Surprise!  Did you miss me?”  She pulled back and tugged on the fastenings for my pants. “It’s been so long…” 

“I’d go away more often for this kind of reception.”

Tattoos on the sides of my legs burned like a brush with a blowtorch, increasing my strength and stamina to god-like levels.  I let my pants fall to the floor and stepped out of them, quickly shedding the rest of my clothes.  I scooped Angie up and tossed her onto the bed.  She squealed as she bounced. 

I fell on her like a starving beast, but heard no complaints.

FOUR

People talk about souls having a

Final Destination—mine’s a bar.

                                                —
Caine Deathwalker

I opened my eyes and saw our sprawled reflections on the ceiling mirror.  Angie’s eyes were closed.  A slight smile indicated happy dreams—probably of me.  I looked sated and a little sleepy.  A bit of blood marked where my earlobe had been nipped.  Fortunately it was still attached.  I sat up slowly, trying not to wake Angie, and felt the sting of nail marks on my back. 

Standing, I looked down at her freckled face, framed by blood-red waves of hair.  The color was natural.  When transformed, she made a red wolf as well. 

Some of her wolf’s feral personality had come out in bed, enhancing her sex drive and endurance. 
It’s a good thing I don’t bruise easy. 
It was also good I had a dragon-blood tattoo to protect me from picking up lycanthrope from Angie.  I wouldn’t have made a large wolf, just a very dangerous one.

The alarm clock on the nightstand said eight o’clock.  It was not my habit to be up so early, but I had business in town with people who kept regular hours. 
Can’t be helped
.  I showered, shaved, and got dressed in a black Italian suit, shirt with no tie, and put my PPKs in their shoulder holsters.  I didn’t need to turn on any lights.  The light spilling in the windows lit me up as I glanced in the full length mirror. 

As usual, I make death look good
.  What’s next?  Oh, yes, t
ime for my pre-breakfast drink. 

I strolled down the hall, and past the kitchen, smelling sizzling bacon and skillet potatoes.  Osamu was manning the stove with highly focused intensity—nothing was going to burn, not on his watch.  It looked like I still had a few minutes, so I went through the living room to the office door.  In my office-bar,
Achill occupied a couch, feet crossed, glass in one hand, and a book in the other.  Near him, on the coffee table, a vodka bottle sat half empty, a work in progress. 

I went behind the bar and got my own bottle, grabbed some Bloody Mary mix, and made something for my own enjoyment.

Achill called out, breaking the pleasant silence, “You have a very good collection of grimoires, Caine.”

“Have you been up all night reading?”

“Hard to get any sleep with the leakage.”

Leakage?  Oh, yeah.  When a werewolf is getting some, the sensory data can sometimes pass magically to other members of the pack. 
Achill probably felt a little mystic heat from my dragon magic as well. 

I smil
ed as I lied, “Sorry about that.”

The door to the living room opened.  Angie tromped in wearing skinny-legged jeans and a green shirt, tight in the chest, cropped to show a pierced bellybutton where an emerald tear winked as she moved.

Angie stopped the second she saw Achill, and dropped her gaze in a show of wolfen submission. 

Achill
lifted his glass in greeting as he studied her.

She trembled under the force of his stare.  He had the power to kill her for no reason at all, and her own Alpha couldn’t save her.  William might be her whole world as leader of the
L.A. pack, but Achill was the star reining in the planets.

Achill
put his cup down. “Relax, Angie, I’m here doing business with Caine.  You and William are good.”

I felt pack magic spin off him, a light skittering over the skin where my tattoos lay dormant.  As he connected to Angie, she relaxed and continued to the bar.  She took the seat closest to
Achill, also staying close to me.  He didn’t look like he cared if she shared orbits with us both.  His gaze shifted to the door before it swung in again.

Kimberly swept in, wearing a billowy white summer dress with green leaves and dun colored vines printed on.  Her feet were sheathed in white leather sandals.  Her toenails, painted candy red, matched her fingernails.  The clutch purse in her hand was covered in silver scales.  Her amethyst eyes were bottomless crystal pools, peering through us all, into more than a few realities.

How many of my secrets are exposed to her casual stare?

She focused on Angie who she’d not yet met.  “Hi, I’m Kimberly.”  She stuck out her hand in greeting.

“I’m Angie.”  As she shook hands, her eyes flicked at me.  “Are you here to see…?”

Great, someone’s getting territorial.

Kimberley’s gaze returned to me as well.  “Yes, my Mistress has engaged the Lauphram

Clan.  I’m going to be staying here a while.”

“Where’s Haziar?” I asked. 
A bodyguard ought to stay close to the body he’s guarding.

“He’s checking out the property, muttered about a disturbance in the Force or something.” 
Kimberley locked arms with Angie and drew her down toward the windows at the far end of the room.  “So, what’s it like to be a werewolf?”

Achill
rolled his eyes, answering for nobody in particular, “You have to be a wolf to know the heart of a wolf.”  He went back to his book.

I finished my drink, set the empty glass down, and headed around the bar.  I left my office and strolled through the living room, the smell of breakfast sharpening my appetite.  As if we’d rehearsed things, I reached the kitchen table, sitting down just as Osamu arrived with a full plate and a steaming mug of Brazilian dark roast for me.  In addition to the bacon and potatoes I’d smelled earlier, eggs and toast had joined the party.

I dug in, studying the pattern of sunlight slicing through the window blinds, striping table and floor.  On the far side of the table from me, a swirl of black mist formed from nothing, solidifying.  A moment later, I was matching stares with Leona.  The black leopard looked all snarly, like she wanted to bite off the head of a chicken.  I knew she didn’t want what was on my plate though.  As a proud spirit beast, she refrained from taking human form, or usually eating human food.  For nourishment, she only drank blood—though she loved the smell of coffee.

Osamu hurried to put a cup on the table near her so she could indulge her sensitive nose.

“That’s better,” she said, “Clears out the stench of fey.”

I remembered
Haziar: massive, brooding, surly, and possessive of Kimberley, but he hadn’t reeked.  Then I remembered the stench of the fey I’d killed in Dallas.  My hands stilled, suspending coffee and a forkful of eggs over my plate.  My brain leaped into gear. 
Autumn Court fey!  Had they tracked me across the country already?
   I had the feeling time was running out faster than I’d thought.  I needed to hurry things along.  I needed to get Vivian aboard for the mission.  I’d once accidentally saved her from a homicidal warlock.  She owed me.