Demon Lord 3: Blue Star Priestess (3 page)

With a growl of irritation, I turned and marched off to the living room door. I went to the back hallway, and headed past my bedroom. If I was going to be away from Malibu for an extended period, there were things to wrap up. My recently
-acquired Fairy kingdom was part of me and it languished from neglect when I didn’t pop in regularly to refresh the bond.

Locked for everyone else, at my touch, the end door creaked open. A light breeze caressed my cheek, bringing the scents of the garden: wild vanilla, roses, lavender, and sage. I crossed the threshold, stepped onto spongy grass, and heard the door close behind me. A whirr of wings sounded as several birds took flight, their solitude broken by my arrival. A gray squirrel spiraled up an elm until hidden by leaves, but I heard him gnawing on a nut. It was spring here, for as long as I wanted, a nice contrast to the California winter I’d left behind.

I took several more steps. The sky was scaled with wispy clouds, a winding dragon shape. The sun was still low, mid-morning. In the near distance, a stone wall surrounded my fey home and gardens. At the center of things, a monster tree reached high into the sky. The massive branches formed a stable foundation for an arboreal mansion. Intricately carved woods formed a village of tree houses connected by encircling decks and balconies. Diamond-paned windows were dark eyes, watching my every movement.

Beautiful
and all mine!

I’d stay here all the time and only go to the human world for contracts, but extended stays in Fairy—when you’re not fey—messes with the mind and can change you in unexpected ways so you no longer fit in human society.

A flow of affection welled up around me as the land registered my presence. Easing to my knees, I set the chest aside and ran my hands through the high, golden grass the way you’d play with a lover’s mane. Strands coiled around my wrists. I didn’t resist as edges of grass gently cut across my skin, leaving fine lines that slowly welled with blood. The Grass lapped up the blood, becoming smeared. Having fed, the land released me, bound to me even stronger than before.

I stood and was surrounded by a storm of crystal-blue butterflies. They orbited me several times before flying off about their business. I was about to turn for the elevator to the tree’s upper decks when I was tackled from behind. Large boobs pressed against my back. Cold white arms wrapped themselves around me from behind. Slammed to the grass, I heard a breathy voice thick with lust, whispering into my ear. “You’re wearing too much clothing.” Izumi released me long enough to roll me over. Naked, sitting on my thighs, she pried at my belt. Her ice-blue hair and eyes identified her as winter fey. She was wearing her natural form
instead of hiding in glamour. “Do not resist,” she warned. “I am going to have my way with you, probably quite a few times.”

I expected this; returning home, I had a lonely harem to appease
; not that I’d ever use that term around them. I like my nuts where they are.
It’s hell being me.

Rather than have her handle my holsters and guns, I sat up and stripped them away, leaving them in reach beside the small chest. She ripped the shirt off me, and scooted back long enough to drag my boots and pants off. She pressed her body over mine. Through the floral perfume she wore, my heightened sense of smell identified a vanilla cream and strawberries scent that was natural to her fey flesh. The red pearl around my neck warmed on my skin, trapped between us.

I sometimes wondered if the Red Lady—on her other dimensional moon—was watching my recreational activity, and if she felt jealous. A conduit of her incredible power, the pearl was her gift, taken from me once, but returned. It’s amazing how powerful women can turn moth-like in search of a flame.
Case in point…

“Tell me how beautiful I am,” Izumi said.

I tangled my legs around hers, taking her prisoner, offering her a hungry smile. “Less talking. More fucking.”

“Here, there be dragons, hungry and horny.”

                                    —
Caine Deathwalker

Back in my Malibu bedroom, I carried the small wooden chest to the full-length mirror.  Using its trapped magic, and not my own, was painless.  It just took longer to touch the runes in the right order to send me where I wanted to go.  The pattern I created glowed red.  Lastly, I tapped the glass and it rippled like the surface of a pond.  I stepped through, appearing from midair in the mouth of a dark alley.  There was no sensation other than what you’d get crossing from one room to another. 

Talon City, also known as the Underground, lay around me.  The place lay somewhere inside a mountain on Europa, the sixth closest moon of Jupiter.  No one really knew how big the city was.  Part of it doubled back to occupy extra-spacial dimensions.  There were rumors of deeper levels with extensive catacombs filled with alien mummies.  The streets and most of the buildings I saw were smooth granite.  A great shadowed space hung high overhead, and beyond the cloying dark, a ceiling had been clawed out of even more frozen rock. 

Ahead of me, lit by street lamps and neon signs, I saw Red-Fang’s tattoo shop.  I crossed the street to the shop, watching the passing entities, some of which no one had seen on Earth in centuries.  A cyclops pickpocket plied his trade.  He hurried off, as I watched him.  A medusa—with a black lace bag over her head—approached in a rustling cobalt skirt, with white, frilly
petticoats peeking out from under the hem, as if she were wading through sea foam.  She twirled an opened sky-blue parasol atop one shoulder as her four-inch stiletto heels clicked on the pavement, almost drowning out the soft hissing of her serpentine hair.  The streetwalker put a little more roll in her hips as she passed.

Like I have to pay for it.

A dwarf waddled by wearing a horned helmet and not much else.  Modestly, he cupped his private parts, muttering through a bright red beard.  “Crom’s wooden teeth!  Why the hell did I try to draw to an inside straight?  I know better.”

I opened the door to Red-Fang’s place and stepped in.  The half dragon child Juliana—his self-appointed receptionist—perched on a high-backed stool behind the counter.  Her apparent age was about twelve, but with her dragon DNA mixed into her human blood, who could really say?  Her fingers danced over a laptop under the scrutiny of two stuffed toys: a panda and dragon.  A plate lay in reach with several chocolate chip cookies on it.  A glass of chocolate milk kept it company.  Comfort food aside, the twelve-year old ran the shop better then Red ever had.

I was the one who’d brought her here, after her mother was killed to send me a message. Julia has dragon blood in her human family from roughly ten generations back, but in her, it had surfaced strongly.  Young as she was, I’d already seen her do a partial transformation.  She had no human family to care for her, and was too human for the Red Dragon Clan to want her.  This was the only place I’d been able to think of to bring her.  Fortunately, it seemed to have worked out well.

I headed for the back room.

Julia looked up, eyes emerald with black-diamond pupils.  Her face brightened as if Christmas had come early.  In a bright pink dress complemented by a baby blue, unbuttoned sweater, she slid off her stool, running around the counter to intercept me.  Her shoes were glossy black, not quite hiding ankle high white socks.  Since my last visit, she’d allowed her hair to grow out so it formed midnight wings as she ran. 

Taking flight, she threw her stick-thin body into the air, trusting I’d catch her, which I did.

Her arms wrapped around my neck.  She snuggled her face against mine.  “Onii-san, you came!”

She wasn’t Japanese, nor did she know the language.  Calling me
onii-san
—older brother—was a surprise.  It had to have been something she’d picked up reading manga or watching anime.  The cuteness of it threatened to invoke genuine warm-hearted emotions in me.  I suppressed them.  Easily.

“Hey,” I said.

She let me go, sliding down to her feet.  “Bring me anything?”

I pulled a box of .22 ammo out of a coat pocket.  “Here, for the next time we go shooting mutant space rats at the landfill.”

She squealed with delight, snatching the box before I could change my mind. 

It takes so little to make some people happy.

“I need to see Red.”

“He’s finishing up with a client, but said to send you back when you got here.”

I nodded and strolled past her to the back room.  My eyes fell on Red-Fang first.  Shirtless, tall, thin, and full of magic, his long white hair aged him.  His stony skin was hard as scales even in human form.  Frequent use of dragon magic had turned his skin, front and back, a vibrant crimson and his sides blue-green.  He could have probably spell cast the weird pigmentation away, but he was too lazy, or simply didn’t care.  I decided on the last choice.

Next to him, the customer sitting on the gurney-like couch was huge—but not mountain giant big.  His hairless skin looked like actual bronze.   He rolled down a sleeve, covering a tattoo bandage.  Standing, he towered well above me.  His eyes—studying the red pearl necklace I wore—were gold-flake pools.  He walked past me on his way
out, giving me plenty of room.

I looked at Red-Fang.  “That couldn’t be—”

“Doc Savage, the pulp action hero from the thirties and forties?  Nah, but he is the fey Lester Dent based his writing on.  They were drinking buddies I believe.”

“Next, you’re going to tell me that the Shadow and the Lone Ranger were really—”

“Sorry, it’s don’t ask, don’t tell on those two.  They’re still active on Earth, even if they’re using other identities these days.”  Red-Fang loaded a tray into the sterilizer to clean his tools.  “Oh, and Caine, don’t scare my clients.  They pay well.”

“Scaring people is the best part of being me.”  He had skin I’d donated, stretched in a frame on his desk.  The skin had once held part of a tattoo that had created a protective barrier for me.  The ink-marked skin had a minor chameleon spell that had been attached since the donation.  My eyes kept sliding off the skin, time and again.  “So, any luck getting my old shield spell to stick?”

“No.  The original is lost, too incompatible with your newly emerged dragon nature.  All the special inks I applied to reform that spell got absorbed, leaving nothing behind.  You’re definitely not getting your shield back.  However, I was able to tattoo a
Don’t-Look-At-Me
spell.  You want that?”

“Nah, that’s pretty much the same as my
Demon-Wings
tat.  Let me know what else you come up with.”

“Okay, meanwhile, I’ll check the rest of your tats, and see how they’re holding up.  Take off your clothes.”  Red turned to face the doorway behind me, and spoke past me.  “Julia, lock the front door, put the out-to-lunch sign up, and wait in the other room.”

I turned to see her watching me with innocent curiosity.  I gave her a stern glare.  “No peeking.”

She pouted.  “Onii-san’s being mean to me.”

“Go!”

She hurried away, shoes clicking on the tiled floor.

“Kid’s got a crush on you,” Red said.  “Try to discourage her.”

“Not going to be easy,” I said.  “This is
me
after all.”

He gave me a steely glower.  “Try hard.  She’s vulnerable right now, been thinking of her mother.  We’ll be closed tomorrow; I’m taking her to L.A. to visit her mother’s grave.”

“At least she knows what happened to her parents.  That’s more than some of us have.”

“Life’s not a competition to see who has more pain,” Red-Fang said.

“Right, ‘cause I’d totally win.”

“Whatever.  Just let the girl grow up as normal as possible.”

“Sure, I may be into nearly everything else, but I stay well away from jail-bait.”  I took off my coat and guns, and unbuttoned my shirt.  By the time I was down to my silk boxers, Red was setting out fresh tools.  He picked up a big magnifying glass that made one of his eyes cyclops-sized.

Julia called from the front room.  “Anyone thirsty?  I could bring you some drinks.”

“No,” Red said.

“Hell, no!” I added.

One by one, Red pored over my tats.  “Now that I had a chance to experiment on your skin, I can tell you what happened in greater detail. Your body rejected the shield because it’s a defensive spell that doesn’t allow you to attack.  The only thing I can think of is that your awakened dragon side is overly aggressive even to the cellular level and doesn’t see
cowering from a threat
as useful.”

“So, no more shield.  Well, that’s fine.  I’ve been doing better without it, anyway, though Old Man’s complaining I’ve been getting a little too
preemptive
in my responses.”

Red-Fang stared at me.  “Is that even possible?  Whatever happened to ‘kill them all and let God sort them out?’”

I raised my eyebrows in agreement.  “I know, right?  That’s classic combat strategy.”

He finished the inspection and put the glass aside.  “Everything else is holding up fine since re
surfacing.”

I dressed once more.  “Good.  You can get to work on the next tattoo design.” 

I touched the piece of skin.  My arm felt like it was exploding from the bone as I willed my
Dragon Flame
spell to life.  Shaken, I bit off a curse, reaching out to touch the skin, turning it to ash.  A piece of me falling into the wrong hands could be used to fuel a spell against me.  No need to take chances.  “Now that we know why I lost the shield, we can stay away from tats that might run afoul of my dragon side.”

“That may be the only intelligent thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Red-Fang joked.

I smiled at him.  “Go fuck yourself with a needle gun.”

A child’s voice spilled into the room.  “Are you finished in there?  Can I come in?”

“Don’t bother,” I yelled.  “I’m coming out.”  I left the workroom and went up front, leaning on the counter as Julia unlocked the front door and took down the Out-To-Lunch sign.  Red followed me, moving around so the counter stretched between us.  He stood near the cash register.  “Ready to settle up for the research and today’s visit?”

“Sure.”  I threw a few gold pieces down.

Julia swept them up and put away without wasted motion.

“By the way,” I pulled out the white scroll and held it out to Red.  “I’ve got something else you might be able to tell me about.”

He looked at the scroll without touching it.

“That doesn’t feel safe,” Red said.  “There’s an aura of withering rage clinging to it that reminds me of my first wife.”

“I need to know what you can tell me, and I got this scroll too.”  I pulled out the dark scroll that had clung to the mountain giant until his death.

“I get hazard pay for this kind of stuff.”  Red took both scrolls and opened them up one at a time.  His skin changed colors: shifting more crimson, pushing the green tint back off his sides.  Red whistled in surprise.  “Give me some time.  I can read some of it.  I have grimoires that can help with the rest.  If that doesn’t do it, there’s always Wikipedia.”

I nodded.  “I have to sell some jewels and do a little shopping.  Then I’ll be back.”

Julia opened the front door as I approached.  I walked out, senses alert for danger.  This wasn’t a real bad part of town, but you never know.  I headed deeper into the city, looking for the
Not-So-Honest Jeweler I often did business with.
 
Several blocks later, the stone walkways became extra-wide to give the foot traffic plenty of room.  The street itself got very little use in this part of town.  In the high finance area, it wasn’t uncommon to see ostrich-drawn buggies, hansom cabs, and magic users on rugs, brooms, and demon back.  Cars were rare.

I passed an alleyway where vampire boy-toys fed on each other as a succubus—wearing only leather straps—supervised, playing with herself all the while.

I so like this place.

I passed the
Liquide Convoitive
Café. 
They
sold drinks you only dreamed of this side of Xanadu.  I often stocked my private bar from here.  With Old Man owning five percent of the store, I got a good discount, but mostly I just liked how Sabine—the lovely French owner—breathily pronounced my name in the frission of passion.

A few businesses away, I reached my first destination, the Not-So-Honest Jeweler.  Undergrounders rely very little on trust.  Had the merchant called himself the Honest Jeweler, no one would have done business with him.  I strolled up to the door and pressed a button.  A painful spike stabbed my brain: a spell woven into the chime acting like a sonar pulse, seeing what I was, and what I had on me.  I added a gouging texture to the pain by warming up my
Dragon Flame
tattoo.  I pointed a flaming hand and blasted the door chime into another time/space continuum.  A kick caved in the burning door, clearing the way.   Standing on the threshold, the flames dying away from my hand, I willed my
Dragon Sight
tattoo to life, enduring a sensation of being disemboweled by a paper shredder with a car engine.  The pain ghosted away, leaving my vision magically enhanced, as the door squeaked open.