Red Moon Demon (Demon Lord) (13 page)

* * *

I fell out of perfect darkness into shadowy gloom. Huge, yellow piles of gold caught my attention.
Assorted pieces of armor and numerous swords cluttered the aisles between them. Among the gold, f
aceted
jewel
s flashed
—rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. Pearls, black and white, formed necklaces. There were even tiaras and crowns as
if
someone had raided
a royal treasury

Precious.
Shiny. Bright.
I wanted it all

I looked toward the sources of light.
Skeleton arms were embedded in
smoke-blackened
rock walls. The attached hands gripped the base of pitch torches. Where the rest of the bones were, I had no idea. The torches
o
range flames danced, wagging in a gentle breeze that suggested an opening to the cave system wasn’t far off.

I looked down at myself
, a
nd through myself. I was translucent like a ghos
t
with a blob of hazy golden light where my heart ought to be. I wore
black-crystal armor worked to suggest a reptilian theme with scales and spikes. My armored boots had claw-tips at the toes. And I stood midair.

Yep, definitely a dream.

A
g
uard
ian hunched near the piles
, a great scaled beast, eyes bright, tail rippling
. A real dragon.
His
long neck
swung
so h
e
faced me.
The same as Red Fang’s, his eyes were topaz, pulling me into a crystal sea.
Words
like black smoke
his
s
ed through my mind
. A
greeting? A warning? I didn’t know. At least the beast
was
n’t
attacking
.
There was no hint of dragon magic searing the air.

I looked to see who else might be here, and spotted
Old Man
standing next to a young couple.
My adopted father held a white cloth bundle in his arms. The bundle was small, pressed against his chest. A small fist rose up from the cloth. A baby explored
the textures of
his
face
.

T
he
strange
ma
le
had t
he biggest sword I
’d
ever seen
strapped to his back
.
A yellow tanzanite adorned its pommel.
H
is short
,
black
hair had sm
udges of
gray
that didn’t match his energetic,
youthfulness
. H
is
craggy
face
ca
ught
shadows
easily, wearing them like a mask. H
e
wore strategically placed piece
meal armor—plain and
matte black
—
over
vital points
;
a true warrior
’
s armor
that ha
d
passed through many
battlefield
s. The choice of pieces over a whole suit of armor told me his fighting was built around speed and skill, more than power. He was a hit-and-run fighter, not an impregnable fortress in his mentality.

The woman s
tood
a few feet back
from him. H
er long
, black
hair had highlights of red and silver
. S
he held her hand
s
to her face
, shielding it as she
cried
. H
e
r
liquid
silver dress reflected the gold
piles
everywhere
.
Drawn by her sobs, t
he dragon
waddled over and dropped his
huge
paw
on top of her head
, clumsily
comforting her.

The man stepped closer
to
Old Man
, reaching to the bundle that held the baby. The warrior
brushed the
baby’s
hair
,
his
obsidian
gauntlets
glinting
with
white-gold
runes on the
cuffs
, the same kind
of runes
I use
d.

H
e back
ed
to the woman
’s side. T
hey couldn
’
t have been more mismatch
ed. S
he was
inches t
aller
,
thin
,
and delicate
. H
e was
short
and extra-
wide. Under the armor pieces, you could tell he was all rock-hard
muscle
,
the type always
ready for battle
. B
ut when he
reached out to claim her
hand
,
he was gentle.

He said,
“We’ll be back one day
,
Old
M
an
. K
eep him
alive ‘til then.
”

A silent specter to the meeting,
i
ndignation flooded me.
Old Man
had always told me my parents were drugged out hippies that had abandoned me on a
Wiccan altar in some nameless forest. The bastard had lied!

* * *

I woke up on my back, under soft sheets
. There seemed to be something particularly important I needed to remember from the depths of a dream, but as I tried to hang onto it, the dream faded, leaving a faint taste of rage in my mouth.
What the hell had I been doing in my sleep?

T
he pillows
u
n
der
my back and head propp
ed
me up so I could see
. I was back in my own room. The curtains
were
pulled back
,
the window open
. S
unlight
brightened
things
unpleasantly. B
lack and red décor
was meant for night viewing. M
y guns and blades
occupied
a
kitchen
chair
that had been placed
in front of the window
. T
he clothe
s
I
’
d
worn
lay
under them
, washed, dried, and folded
.

I pulled my
aching
arm from under the sheet
and saw
bandage
s
.
Well, at least I still had the arm.

I eased off the bed. Someone had put me
in
gray sweatpants. I hated sweatpants. I didn’t even own any. I stripped them off and left them
o
n the floor. Whoever wanted them could pick them up.

Leona and Izumi were talking outside my room
in the hall
. Normally, I’d have paused to listen in, but I felt too weak for casual loitering. With aching slowness, I
made my way
toward the master b
ath
room. The
room was large
with a
four
-
person
Jacuzzi
. I
n addition to the usual amenities
, a
condom dispenser was attached near a gold-plated sink that matched the showerheads
, and toilet handle
.

I went to the frosted shower door and opened it. The
inside
space
could also hold four people, if they were very friendly.
I turned on the water, feeling the
spray
with my good hand. I balanced the temperatures until the stream reached the warmth of fresh spilt blood—j
ust what I need
ed
to feel better
.

I
left the shower
door
open so
steam
could
warm the room,
and
went to
face the
mirror
.
My hair was spiky and tangled. The bags under my reddened eyes were dark. I hadn’t looked this bad since my first hangover. The only color on my chalky skin was from my tattoos.

Carefully, my arm over the sink,
I
took
o
f
f the bandage
.
Underneath, t
he
tattoo
s
looked great
. T
here
was a new
,
white
scar four inches long
—
sensitive
as hell—in which fresh
ink had set
. My tat had been restored
, completing the once broken circuit. First time I ever needed this kind of a patch job; I was glad it came out good. Normally, my tattoos healed as slowly as anyone else’s.
Red-Fang must have felt sorry for me,
throwing in a booster spell. I wondered if he’d bill me for that.

I returned to the shower, closing the frosted door behind me.
The water burned my
healed
arm a little
as I applied body wash everywhere, enjoying getting clean.

I heard soft, padded footsteps as someone
walked in
to
the bathroom
. Touching the glass near the latch, my finger traced a small rune. My side of the door cleared, giving me a perfect view of Leona. The leopard d
idn’t
say anything,
waiting,
her bright yellow eyes fixed on what would still be a frosted glass door to her.

I finished up, killed the water, and stepped out.

I grabbed a towel
off a shelf, dried
,
and dropped it in a hamper. By then,
Izumi
appeared
in the doorway
,
her gaze molesting me in a good way. Ignoring the ladies,
I pulled a drawer open
under the sink
and
extracted
the
box that had my straight razor in
side. T
he boar
’
s hair shaving brush
floated out. A can hissed and provided it with lather.
Leona did
such
things
for me
when I was hurt
. I used the brush
to
prep my face and
I pulled
out the
razor.

“You sure you should be doing that
?
” Izumi said.

“I have to shave
,
” I said.

“But your hand
’
s shaking
.
”
She said.

I looked at her in the mirror as she came in and stood behind my shoulder.
“Izumi
,
unless you
’
r
e
going to help, shut up and
bail. I
can
use
some privacy
for what will probably be
a
dangerous little ritual.
”

They both went
.

I threatened
my
hand
with a soul-withering glare. It
stopped shaking
, and I got the job done. I put everything away and returned to my bedroom. The girls were sitting beside each other on the foot of my unmade bed. The sweatpants I’d left in the floor had been picked up, folded, and placed on my pillow like a gift from a cat.
Leona?