Demon Lord 3: Blue Star Priestess (16 page)

A blue-armored demon arrived.  Instead of hurrying up to the Old Man, he came to me.  His eyes were rusty-gold, matching his hair.  His skin was amber, his palms matte black.  He handed me an envelope.  “There’s a messenger waiting at the door for your response.” 

I opened the envelope and read note.  It simply said: We need to talk.  In place of a signature, there was a metallic seal.  I smelled the paper.  Ink mixed with real gold.  The seal was a family crest I didn’t know, a dragon clan.

The Old Man plucked the paper from my hand.  He studied the seal and smiled.  “I knew they’d come around one day.”

“Who the hell are
they
?”

He looked at me. “Your mother’s family. When you see them, try to make a good impression.  We need allies in this war.”

SIXTEEN

“
I’ve never met a gun I didn’t like.”

—Caine Deathwalker

The War Room was quietly intense, voices low, a background buzz. Desk-jockeys coordinated with field teams. Fingers tapped keyboards, updating the plasma screens. Izumi hung in their awhile before getting bored and begging off due to the pressing weight of her “diplomatic responsibilities.”

Old Man and I spent the day there. He kept me close, using me as a sounding board, a not so subtle method of forcing me to spew combat strategy. He wanted the War Room staff to be acquainted with the concept that I had an aptitude for more than drinking and sexual conquest. Hour by hour, we tracked enemy attacks across the city, and coordinated responses with the other preternatural communities.

At one point, the room personnel went off duty as a new team took over. The First Sword hung in there, long past when his edge started to slip. After he took too long to make a simple decision, the Old Man ordered him to go get some rest. That dropped the tension in the room noticeably. I was glad no longer to be feeling his stares knifing into my back. By evening, I was well into fatigue, not quite fully recovered from the cemetery battle.

The Old Man’s shadow hand materialized at the nape of my neck, an unobtrusive touch of power. Usually, the shadow hand smacked the back of my head in response to some smart-ass comment I made. This time, it came without provocation, putting a tingle on my skin, pouring arcane strength into me. Renewed vigor flushed my cells. It was like chemical high that didn’t mess with one’s sense of reality.

I kept my voice low. “What was that for?”

“You’re of no use to me asleep on your feet, and I don’t want to send you off to sleep.” His stare remained locked onto the plasma screens. He nodded at the display. “The tempo of the attacks is increasing. It’s going to be a long night.”

Izumi will just have to endure the loneliness of an empty bed.

The Old Man stiffened. “There’s a developing pattern hidden among the targets: one of them a government warehouse of mystic relics confiscated over the years, and the other a museum—fortunately not the right one.”

I felt excitement burning deep. “You know what they’re after?”

“I think so. I want you to go to the Unnatural History Museum and retrieve the Cup of Poseidon from the Greek section. Zero-T will cover you, leading two six-demon teams.” That the Old Man would single Zero-T out to have my back meant that he knew about the First Sword’s antics, and was keeping track of my allies.

In
the Great Hall—the hub of the clan house—we found a knot of demon warriors waiting to be deployed should need arise. They were throwing dice behind Lauphram’s throne. Money was changing hands.

Zero-T went over and pointed, making his choices. “You guys are with me. Do a good job and I’ll put in a good word with Lauphram when we get back.”

A leaf-clothed demon with vines growing out of his flesh scrunched his eyebrows and scratched his ass absently. “Who are you again?”

Zero-T walked off instead of answering.
Twelve demons followed us out, none of them happy to see I was also going along for the ride. We left the mansion and crossed a side courtyard to a massive garage where we requisitioned armored vehicles with tinted windows. Outside the clan house, various types of demon cloaking magic reactivated. Vine guy became just another bruiser in a green business suit. The fire demons no longer had flames for hair. Zero-T’s earth magic mask adhered to his face, gaining the flexibility of human features. The vehicles were charmed as well so as to deflect attention. No one was going to give us a ticket for speeding, or to try and steal one of our cars while we were on a job.

Zero-T was the only one who took his own vehicle. I rode up front with him, a pair of fire demons in the back seat.

We’d crossed the city and parked near the massive sprawl of stairs leading to the Los Angeles County Natural History Museum. The roof’s overhang had a row of lights beaming down on us, illuminating three sets of double doors. Bracketing the doors, the “Dino Lab” banner and the one for the “Pavilion of Wings” added slick advertising to what would otherwise be dull, off-white brick. This massive structure possessed divergent architectural styles, seen as while circling the property. This was the ugliest of its sides. Elsewhere lay a rotunda with graceful scrollwork. Another side featured an ultra-modern boxlike affair made of glass-and-steel.

Because the enemy could get here anytime, or be here already, we’d
divided our force to cover all of the entrances. We’d all go in at the same time, and sweep the complex on the way to the section housing the Greek History exhibit. This building was both our destination, and not. An extra-spatial dimension permeated the structure, allowing two museums to share the same space without atomic annihilation resulting that would have left a radioactive crater.

Though that would be fun in its own way.

I held my long weapon case in hand. Looming behind me, Kona wore red-painted Kevlar, arm- and shin-guards, and a horned helmet with cheek-guards. Imari was jet black, wreathed in a second, translucent skin of pale orange flame. She wore nothing else. I tried not to stare; she had a reputation for causing oglers to spontaneously combust, but how a naked demon-girl can blame others for looking when she’s flaunting
everything
, I didn’t understand.

The demons were supposed to be my backup against the enemy—if they showed—but their real purpose was to act as bodyguards. While I wasn’t popular with the troops, they couldn’t just let me get killed without Lauphram ripping out their hearts and lungs and making them eat their own eyeballs.

Discipline’s important.

I pulled raw magic from my core, not activating a spell, but energizing my aura, shifting it into the visible light spectrum. In the golden glow, the concrete underfoot developed an acid green sheen. The slick expanded, becoming a magic circle with interlocking geometries and arcane runes. Instead of being static, the pattern shifted like the meshed gears of an old-fashioned pocket watch. There were two outer rings that raced in opposite directions. The pattern blurred as its harsh light vortexed around us.

I closed my eyes until the light died. Opening them, I saw the letters on the building had changed. We’d been
phased
by the transition point to the altered space holding the
Unnatural
History Museum. The outside was much the same, but the inside would have entirely different displays based on the history of the preternatural communities worldwide.

Imari
passed me, going toward the doors. She was about to step out of the circle, when I noticed the trap. “Wait,” I called. “Look at the ground between you and the doors.”

She stood one-footed, then pulled back her raised foot, putting it down inside the transition point. Kona joined her, staring down at the concrete. “I don’t see anything,” he said.

“Me either,” Imari said.

Hmmmm. Must be something about my half-dragon heritage. I definitely see wispy blue on the ground.

Surrendering an excellent view of Imari’s flanks, I reluctantly advanced, stopping between the two fire demons. I warmed up my
Dragon Fire
tattoo. The cost of the magic twisted my spleen like a well-chewed wad of gum—at least that’s what it felt like. As the agony faded, my hand burst into fire. I pointed my palm at the concrete and dropped a couple fireballs outside the transition point.

The fire splattered on a shell of light just above the ground as another spell circle faded into view
, this one with wiggly lines like symbolic water, flowing over to the three sets of doors like an electrical connection. The pattern’s cold glow was dark violet. Forced into complete visibility, the trap burned the air with the thick stink of infernal spirits. I didn’t have to know exactly what the trap would do, but the result was bound to be grisly, ghastly, and god-awful. The writing inside the trap wasn’t anything I recognized. I could try to overpower it, but that might take a lot of power I’d soon need.

“You don’t want to step into that,” I said.

Imari glared at the trap, then at back me. Despite her agitation, I thought I saw a glimmer of gratitude in her eyes, but I was probably mistaken.

She said, “
So now what?”

I had an aversion to leave active traps on my line of retreat. Such things could bite you in the ass later. “The wavy lines,” I said. “It’s easier changing part of a pattern than removing the whole.”

I thought of jump-starting a car, the act of crossing wires. I skirted the edge of the circle to stand near the wavy lines. My raw magic suffused my aura. I flushed that energy down to the soles of my feet, creating a pool that overlapped the wavy lines on the concrete. Closing my eyes, I saw the pattern in my mind. I reimagined the lines, twisting them into a winding braids so hey fell short of touching the doors.

I opened my eyes and saw the braids I’d imagined. The sets of wavy lines had turned toward each other and become a tangle. There was enough of a gap to get in now, however…
“I think they want us inside, but in the mortal realm, where the museum alarms and security can work against us. Maybe we should do just that, but change the game on them so they don’t get exactly what they want.” I returned to the transition circle, and poured out my desire as a haze of gold aura.

T
he acid-green light-play flared once more. The circle dimmed.

Imari
turned back to face me, her gaze sliding to the building. “Won’t the security hamper them just as much?”

“No, of course not.” I watched her perfect 32C-cups tits jiggle, averting my gaze before she noticed. The thrill of danger hardened the monster in my pants. “I think they want to force us
into a complete reveal of the preternatural community.” I felt a brief flare of admiration. “Someone’s as twisted as I am. I bet the enemy magic will also stop any of us from teleporting in.”

Kona crossed his massive arms across his barrel chest. “If this is here, the other entrances are probably sealed against us as well. That leaves a few questions.”

I nodded. “Can we break the spell? And are the bad guys waiting inside, or about to ambush us out here?”

The fire demons spun around, scanning the area for movement.

Anticipating a worst-case scenario, I took out my phone and sent the Old Man a text: ENEMY IS HERE. BUILDING IS SPELL-WARDED. SEND REINFORCEMENTS. I hit send and put my phone away. If we all died here, Old Man had a shot of avenging us and regaining Poseidon’s Cup.

I pressed a button on the collar of my Kevlar vest, activating the tactical throat-mic of my radio transmitter.
“Team Three here,” I called. “Do not use transition points. Enter by normal means once I disable alarms, over.” I waited for a response.

“Caine, what the hell!” Zero-T screamed the last two words, his voice filling my head from the ear-bud I wore. “Damn it, I just lost a man.
He’s … splattered all over the place—”

“
Yeah, calm down. We’ll probably lose a few more before this is all done,” I said. “Team

Two, status? Over.”

“Team Two here. You got us just in time. Thanks. Over.”

Zero-T was technically in command, but I figured everyone listening in needed the security of an authoritative voice. I said, “Once I give the all-clear, go in and watch your step. The enemy is here, somewhere. Don’t be careless. There will be other traps. Over and out.”

“How are you going to disable the alarm?” Kona asked. “All you’re carrying is that rifle case.”

“Watch and see,” I said. I needed special help so I snapped my fingers and waited.

Imari tapped her clawed toes on the beige stone a couple times, but before another question had a chance to come my way, a teal green will-o-the-wisp materialized in front of me. This was my newly contracted pal from the forest cave. I had his use for a full year, unless I got him destroyed by accident.

He said, “You called, master?”

“Yes, Quig. I need you to float straight ahead, into that building, find the alarm in the center of the building and turn it off. Look near the dinosaur bones, there should be a control panel hidden in one of the walls.”

Quig stayed in front of me. I wondered if he perceived the trap. “Quig? What’s the matter?”

“Who’s Quig?”

“That’s what I named you.”

“I have a name.”

“I like Quig better. Get a move on.”

“Yes, master, thank you, master. I will treasure the new name until you die, which I hope is soon.”

Quig shot to the double glass doors, and ghosted through like they weren’t there.

“The trap didn’t activate,” Imari said.

I grinned. “Yeah, I noticed.
I wanted to confirm that we’re allowed to go in the
natural
museum, just not the
unnatural
one. They’ve chosen the battlefield. We’re at a disadvantage, but we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Imari
jumped on red-gold plumes of fire that lifted her twice her height, moving as if pure speed could save her if the trap wasn’t as dormant as I’d said. I admired her courage, and her backside. Had she died, I would have been sorry—briefly.