Demon Lord 3: Blue Star Priestess (8 page)

Gloria broke away, chasing after them.  “Hey, get back here and pay your bills!”

Ignoring all that, I lifted an eyebrow at the Red Lady.  “So, what are you doing here—so far from the Red Moon?”

“You once threatened to fuck me into submission.  I’m here to hold you to that.”

“But you’re a goddess-class entity.  That could take a couple weeks and three crates of Red Bull.  Why now?”

“There’s lightning in the air.  It seemed like a good time.”

“So, what?  That’s your way of getting me out of danger?  You’ve seen ahead in time and there’s something there for me you don’t like?”

“You should be naked in my bed where it’s nice and safe,” she said. 

Zero-T sighed from the depths of his demon soul.  “Why does no one ever say those kind of things to me?”

“Because you’re ugly,” the Red Lady said, “and smell of cheap cologne.”

I shuddered violently.
  Come on!  Stop looking so fuckable when I’m trying to laugh.

And then a six-pack of freaks walked through the door in glossy black sun-suits that

shielded them from the light of day.

Vamps?  Allies?  Enemies?

I looked at Gloria over by the cash register.  Holding her bone sword—having pulled it from who knew where—she gave every indication a blood-orgy was about to start.

EIGHT

“We’re spoiled for choices—all of them given by idiots.”

                                       —Caine Deathwalker

The black visors and heavy suits indicated the vamps were not quite at a master level, but the fact that all six of them were awake and functioning during the day suggested they were tougher than most of their breed. Seeing Gloria—and her weapon—didn’t agitate the newcomers.  With an aura of predatory patience, they spread out in a crescent, each of them facing her with empty hands though they had short swords sheathed across their lower backs, and throwing spikes in grooves on the backs of their forearms.  Several of them had army field knives strapped to thighs. 

The one who’d led them inside stopped closest to the door.  He waited until it closed, cutting off the spill of indirect sunlight, and slid his faceplate on top of his hood like some post-apocalyptic bonnet.  Elastic straps held it there.  His eyes were ebon
y, and a crease in his bottom lip showed that it had been split a time or two.  His face was clean shaven, his body chiseled and lean.  A thin white scar marred his left cheek.

His stare fixed upon Gloria.  They conducted a silent war of wills until he said, “We meet at last.  I am Titus.  Perhaps you have heard of me.”

“Nothing good,” Gloria gritted out.  “I know all the vampires who have a right to be in this city.  You’re not on the list.”

He smiled.  “We are not here to challenge you—this time.”

Her glance raked them all.  “We?  You need help fighting your battles?”

“We are one.  We have always fought as one.  This is our strength.”

“Dogs and jackals run in packs.  Which are you?” Gloria asked.

One of the black-clad warriors jolted a step forward.  A
nother faceless warrior reached out and stopped his movement with a grip on his arm.  “Easy, Gorgonio.  A time and place, eh?”

T
itus continued without looking away from Gloria.  “These are Cerano, Agenor, Calimaco, Herodes, and Gorgonio who is quick to find insult—and crush it.  Me?  I like a spirited woman.  I have tamed many over the centuries.”

There was a shimmer of blood red, a dancing column of light as the Red Lady finally took note of the vampires.  They didn’t seem to notice when she solidified between two of them.  As a matter of fact, they didn’t move the slightest bit, not even to breathe, not that vamps had to unless they wanted to speak.  The voices in the room had fallen eerily silent.  I could hear
the slow
thu-thump
of my own heart.  I glanced at Gloria.  She still clutched her sword, and was as motionless as everyone else.  Apparently, only the Red Lady and I could move in a world trapped between seconds.

I looked at the Red Lady for confirmation.  “What is this?  Some alternate dimension of time?”

Her head came up from an inspection of the vamps.  She smiled.  “You can call it that.”

“Reality’s your plaything.  I get that.  But do you want to tell me what’s really going on here?  This is more than a booty call.”

“Do you want me to destroy these creatures for you?”

Is she answering obliquely or changing subject?

“Both,” she said.

“I really wish you’d stay out of my head,” I said.  “And for the record, I kill my own prey.”

She pouted, drifting closer to me.  “I get to touch your thoughts for you are ever touching my heart.  You know, it’s really not fair what you do to me.”

“What I do to you?”  I stared at her.  “You do know that I’m an alcoholic, womanizing, soulless bastard of a killer, right?  If you’re stupid enough to love me, how is that my fault?”

She stopped right in front of me.  Her glass of pink champagne sparkled in from nowhere, a kind of ghost answering her call.  She took a sip, and offered the glass to me.  “See?  It’s not poisoned, I promise.  Want some?”  She swung the edge close to my lips.  Her eyes dared me to take a chance.

“Maybe next time.”

Her smile widened.  “Don’t real men drink pink?”  She swung the glass carelessly aside yet didn’t spill any.  Her soft, slightly parted lips were in striking range.  Her breath warmed my cheek.  I smelled wild roses and lilac as a gentle wind teased her hair.  Her desire for me was an electric tingle I could almost taste, that coming-storm sensation that tells you to get the hell under cover.

We lick pink
, not drink it 

She said, “At a certain point, I stepped outside of linear time to occupy all moments.  Some of them are fragile because different aspects of me share those moments—past me and eternal me.  Some moments I dare not change, for that would alter the
me
that loves you.   Soon, I must abandon you, turning my attention elsewhere.  You are going to be in the gravest danger imaginable, and I will not answer should you call.  This does not mean I love you less.  What has been must be.  You will soon discover the beginning of
us
.”

“We’ve already begun—the Night of the Red Moon, remember?”

Ignoring my question and kissed me chastely, without sexual heat.  Her lips clung to mine in a second kiss that raised the voltage level.  My hands acted on their own, dragging her in, sliding over her generous curves.  She pulled her face back so she could stare into my eyes.  “Our first time is going to be fantastic.  You’ll spoil me for all other men.”

“Goes without saying.”

“But it’s said.”  Her palm rose and pressed against my heart.  She faded in my arms, a mass

of sliding, intangible prisms of light.  The crimson mirage twinkled out, just the taste of her lingering on my lips.

I was alone in the frozen moment she’d brought me to.  My brain felt numb.  The swollen monster in my pants felt betrayed. 
Better this way
, I told him. 
She’s the kind that never lets go of you once she’s surrendered. 

Time resumed.  Cerano picked up his conversation with Gloria where he’d left off.  “I heard tell of your beauty and grace in the European courts.  They were not exaggerated.”  His gaze dropped to the bone sword she still clutched.  “I have heard of your sword as well.  It will not be enough to save you when this city falls.  You will need my protection.  It will come with a price.”

The bloody glow in Gloria’s eyes went from translucent to opaque and dazzling.  “You’re behind the ones who attacked my bar?”

“Disposables,” he said.  “Meant to be used and thrown away.  You, on the other hand, will always have a place at my side—on your knees—as my woman.”

I expected Gloria to cut the guy’s head off in a blinding blur of speed.   She didn’t.  Maybe she knew something about these guys that I didn’t.  She grounded the point of her sword and leaned forward on it.  “Get out of my bar and my city.”

I eased closer to the group, stealing an abandoned drink off the bar along the way.  A thought brought my demon sword leaping to my hand.  As it appeared, several of the dark-suits turned their heads to take me in.  My gaze slid over to Gloria as I corrected what she’d just said.  “My city, actually.”

Titus turned and gave me a slow, head-to-toe examination.  “And who would you be?”

I delayed answering as my sword washed my mind with undying hunger.  It wanted this vamp’s heart, his blood, and whatever passed for a soul.  It wanted to drink his suffering and pain. 

Behave
, I told the sword. 

“I am Caine Deathwalker.  Some people call me the Red Moon Demon.”

Titus nodded.  “Ah, the upstart.  I have heard of you.” 

Zero-T came forward to stand at my side, his Magnum in his hand.  “I believe the lovely lady asked you gentlem
en to leave.”  He clicked back the hammer on his weapon.

Gorgonio spoke, voice vibrating with rage.   “Take care whom you threaten.  We are six to your three.”

Yeah, but threatened with death, there’s a good chance I can turn into a lightning-spitting dragon, at least I hope so.  Of course, that will probably destroy the entire bar
. 
Like my poor car.  Rest in peace, baby.  You were the best.

I s
hed a tear in the depths of my soul.

Titus raised a hand and the other vamps focused on him.  “We have said what we came to say.  Next time, there will be no need for words.” 
He slid his visor down his skin-tight helmet to hide his face, and turned toward the front door.  His team followed him out.

Once the door closed behind the vamps, Gloria set her sword behind the bar.  My sword whined like a skanky bitch denied her fix as I magically sent it back to my treasure vault in Malibu.

Zero-T relaxed, easing the hammer down on his revolver, putting it away in a shoulder rig.  “So, just who were those guys?”

“Spartans.”  Gloria found a bottle of whisky and poured herself a drink.  She swallowed and set the empty glass down.  “They’re the Sparta Six, a paramilitary force that sell their services to those with enough money.  Titus is a master vamp, but not a
pure blood
.  The rest of them are of a lower level, but almost as strong.  I’ve heard tell of certain … atrocities.  They like to play with their food.”  She pulled out her phone.  “I need to leave word about them on the vampire grapevine.”

“Yeah, the Old Man will be interested as hell.”  I pulled out my phone and punched his number in. 

As I waited for a pick-up, Zero-T walked over to the bottle of whisky Gloria had brought out.  He took her empty glass, refilled it, and drained the whisky, eyes closed as he enjoyed the warm burn.

Old Man answered.  “You’re supposed to be here already.”

“Can’t be helped,” I said.  “Gloria’s bar just got hit by our new enemy, and that was followed up by some paramilitary vamps called the Sparta Six.  Ever hear of them?”

“Nothing good.  I’ll call my contacts in the other major hubs and see what they know, but
you are on your way now?”

“Yeah, yeah, on my way.” 
Pain in my ass. 
I turned off the phone and put it away.

Gloria followed me to the door.  She caught my arm, stopping me and Zero-T.  “The Sparta Six are high up, but there’s still someone running this invasion from the shadows.  Watch your back.”

“You watch my back,” I said, “and I’ll see to it you don’t have to marry that guy.”

“That is
not
going to happen,” she said.  “White is not my color.”

I shrugged, grinning playfully.  “I don’t know, I think your white skin would look good against my black, silk sheets.”

Zero-T crowded me aside and seized her hands in his.  He kept his earnest gaze on her cute up-turned nose so she wouldn’t roll his mind with her hypnotic stare.  “Don’t worry; I will protect you with my life.”

She studied him and a little furrow appeared between her reddish-pink eyes.  “Who were you again?”

Doing little to muffle a laugh, I opened the front door and stepped out.  Walking along the sidewalk, I looked at the car keys in my hand.  I’d taken them from Zero-T as he’d nudged past me.  I threw them up into the air and caught them.  It may have seemed as if I was strolling along without a care, but my senses strained for any indication of an attack.  There was a very real possibility that the Spartans were still lurking, about to ambush me to get their rocks off.  I looked long at every passing human, vagrant, and vehicle.  I was especially careful rounding the corner to the side parking lot.

I’d just reached Zero-T’s convertible Volvo when he caught up to me, huffing from the run.  He called out.  “Hey, I can’t find my keys.”

I tossed them to him so he could drive me, as a good underling should.  “Next time, keep your mind on business.”

“Easy for you to say.   I hear you’ve got your own harem.”

“You think that’s not hard work?” 

I put a hand on the back door of the convertible, stiffened my arm, as I jumped.  I sailed sideways and I landed in the backseat, bouncing on the leather upholstery.

“I really wish you wouldn’t do that,” Zero-T said.

I shrugged, and noticed that my subconscious was trying to tell me something.  Something I knew, but didn’t.  I studied the other vehicles parked around us.  My hands went to my guns.  They were loose in the holsters, ready for a fast draw.  I checked them, making sure the clips were full, the gun safeties on.  I still had my wallet.  My phone was still in the pocket where I kept it.

“What’s wrong?” Zero-T asked.  “Got fleas?”

“Next time you say something like that,” I gave him a cold smile, “I’m going to bury you up to your chin in the desert with your eyes taped open.”

He hit the radio as part of his start-up-the-car routine.  Rap music spilled out. 

I pulled out my left-hand gun and shot his radio.

He screamed and wept and cursed in a fluid pattern I found vastly entertaining.  When it became clear he wasn’t going to pull his Magnum and try to take my head off, I put my gun away.   His hands were tight on the wheel.  After a final shuddering sob, he backed the car out of our parking spot and glowered at me in the rearview mirror.  “That was mean.  Plain dirty-dog mean.  What did my car ever do to you?”