Red Moon Demon (Demon Lord) (27 page)

I smiled. “I’m on my way.” I looked at Hiro. “Have your men meet me there. I want to see how they handle themselves.”

“Going to destroy another nightclub?” Leona asked.

“Hey,” I said, “it’s what I do.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

“Don’t believe what they say;

violence solves everything.”

—
Caine Deathwalker

The line outside
of
Aes Sidhe
w
as shorter, conspicuously lacking preternaturals.
T
he
usual b
ouncer had been replaced by two slayers
with
black Kevlar armor under their long coats
. Each chest plate bore a fancy crest;
a
bleeding, black rose with a sword superimposed over it.
The aura of fey magic around the nigh
t
club had been replaced with one of earth magic.

As I
walked
past
the line people hoping to get in,
the slayers
gave me a once over, studying what they could of the zombie apocalypse suit under my own long coat. If I’d had a crest on my chest instead of what looked like a compact mirror, they’d have assumed I was one of them.

“I need to see
Albino
John about
a
warlock
,” I said.

T
he bouncer on the left blocked me with a palm.
“Wait in line, freak.”

The
bouncer
on the right
waved
on
a couple
at the head of the line
.

I to
o
k half
a
step back and kick
ed
the
first
man in the jewels
. He gasped, wheezed,
and
bent at the waist
. H
is cheeks flushed, puffing out.

H
is
partner
lunged at me.

I used the heel of my hand to shunt his
elbow
as he threw a punch. This made his fist miss my head.
As
his fist h
u
ng over my left shoulder,
I used a
leopard paw
strike against his
throat
,
cutting
off
his air.
He dropped to his knees, choking. Mercifully, I slammed their heads together and they collapsed
to the pavement
, unconscious.

Mesmerized by the sudden violence, t
hose at the head of the line stared at me.

I stared back. “I really hate waiting in line.”

I stepped over the
slayers
and
stopped
on the threshold. It was new. In the center was an ancient Hebrew symbol, the circles of Solomon. Had I been a true demon, I would have been stopped here. As it was, I crossed over with
a smile in place.
S
crew you
,
Solomon.

Inside
the club
, the festivities were
going
more
full
-
throttle
th
a
n
usual.
Scantily clad women hung from the ceiling on wide bands of silk, doing routines more common to Las Vegas.
The slayers were every
where
, in battle gear, many of them baring wounds they’d taken from the wolves at the
M
ission. T
he fey bartenders
and waitresses were gone, replaced by biker chicks that looked like they could handle a lot more than drinks. Anything fey had been stripped from the walls. The slayers had moved in and the placed had become
human only
.

Either Albino John had been pressed into service during the on-going transition, or he
’
d traded masters. Either way, he’d probably not called me on his own. Chances were good I was walking into a trap, despite the attitude I’d been met with at the front door.

I
pushed through the human crowd
to
reach the
back
hallway. The black door past the restrooms drew my eyes. Two slayers guarded it. They wore headsets, muttering into them as I approached. I stopped in front of them. “Do I have to go through you guys too?” I asked.

The one on the left spoke, “We’ve been told to let you through.”

“Someone around here has some common sense,” I said.

They
moved aside, opening the black door. I went through, up a flight of steps, and kicked in the upstairs door
to the office
.
When no gunfire sprayed out the door, I cautiously took a fast peek. No goons were waiting to unload. There were several slayers seated inside near the wall of
one-way
glass. Behind the office desk, Albino John had his feet up, his hands laced behind his neck as he leaned back in his leather chair. A lit cigar occupied one corner of his mouth, a curl of blue smoke spiraling up from the end.

I strolled into the office, my guns holstered.

Albino John’s eyes
stabb
ed
like a stiletto of hate, t
he
effect somewhat diminished by being
red and teary. His nose
looked
inflamed. This time, there were no
lines of coke on the desk, waiting to be inhaled. John
flashed
a vicious smile.
“About time you got here. These gentlemen want to have a discussion with you.”

I stopped where I
could
see
everyone in the room
.

There was a click. I tensed but didn’t go for my gun
sin
c
e no one else was in motion
.
Slowly,
John
brought
his
hands into view. One of them
held a remote control. I heard a hum.
Directing my attention,
John pointed the remote at the ceiling where the hum came from. I glanced up.
A black light lamp?

I looked down at the carpet. Ultraviolet paint now
glowed
neon green
around all around me—t
he seal of Solomon
; four concentric rings surrounding the
S
tar of David, scribbling al
l over it.

I laughed
, and
shook my head sadly.

Near the
one-way glass
that
over
looked the dance floor, o
ne of the slayers stood, kicking over his chair. “What’s your problem?”

I pointed at the phosphorescence on the carpet. “You guys actually expect that to work?”

Another slayer made a restraining motion toward him. That second man had steel gray hair, a clean shaven face, and green
-
slate eyes that peered at me, one brow lifting.
He was the oldest. A
n aura of strength
seeped from
him, a feeling of
earth
magic. I smell
ed
freshly turned earth, and dew-dampened foliage from him
, the residue of the plant’s
life force
. It had
touched him many times. Of the slayers, he was openly unarmed, as if mundane weapons couldn’t threaten him.
This was no one to take lightly.

Next to him, also seated, was a female slayer in black leather. Her hair was midnight black, her eyes
dead black
. Her skin was bleached white, her nails crimson and long. A sawed
-
off shotgun lay on a loveseat next to her. She smiled at me, flashing a bit of fang.
I noticed her gaze dropping to the little mirror on my chest, her brow furrowing in puzzlement.

Vampire? Keeping company with slayers?

The leader of the slayers asked,
“Are you not a demon, son of Lauphram?”

I said,
“Actually, no. He’s my adopted father.”

The leader nodded. “I see.” His gaze slashed across the room t
o
Albino John. “We were misinformed.”

John slid his feet off the desk, sitting up. “I didn’t know, Carson, honest.”

“You should have.” Carson switched his attention back to me. It didn’t seem to bother him I had a psychological advantage, peering down at him. “Caine, we
’ve
c
o
me looking for Sarah
Cooper. She was one of us, for a while, a slayer in training. She took a relic from our vaults, something dangerous.”

“Very dangerous,” the woman said.

“I know,” I said. “I’ve face
d
the power of the necklace several times now.”

“And you’re still alive?” the standing slayer said.

“Apparently,” I
stared at the woman, “though looks can be deceiving.”

I was fishing for an explanation and she knew it. She said, “I look vampire but I’m not.”

But not human either
. I nodded in sudden understanding. “A
dhampyr; y
our mother was human, your father a vampire.”

“Right
,
”
she said.
Her gaze flicked to the mirror again. She couldn’t figure out why the thing was featured so prominently on a battle suit. She had no way to know that Hiro and Old Man were keeping tabs on me.

Carson spoke up, “My granddaughter is human enough to be a slayer, and vampire enough to be one of our best.”

She stared through me. “What about you? Are you anything other than a traitor to your race?”

Briefly, I indulged a fantasy where I killed every male in the room, stripped the girl, and spanked her into submission. I shook off the vision, reminding myself I had business to conduct here.

“
We want Sarah,” Carson said, “and the necklace.”

“Don’t you already have the necklace?” I asked. “Salem was working for you guys, right?”

“He has it?” the woman said.

I said, “Yeah, until I find him and rip his spleen out, along with a few other internal organs.”

The slayers looked at each other, an uneasy tension gripping them.

“Betrayed again?” I said. “Hard to get good help.”

The woman scooped up her shotgun and stood. “That black-hearted bastard. I’ll kill him!”

“You know where to find him?” I asked.

“I have a good idea,” she said.

“Can I come,” I asked. “After all, you’re engaged in operations within my territory.
”

“Hell, no,” Vivian said.

The unnamed male slayer glared my way. “This is slayer business.”

I shrugged.
“Well I could just kill you all and be done with it, after I make you talk
of course.
”

My protective tattoo burn
ed
,
activating against a sudden attack. Motion at the edge of sight drew my attention to the source of the threat. Albino John
stood with a
nasty
grin on his face and a
shot
gun
i
n his hand
. Gilded runes were inset on the barrel.
I di
d
n
’
t
need to take a chance, and it was time to leave anyway, so I
activated the tatts on my legs—knowing I’d pay the cost for vampire speed an hour from now.

I
ran straight at Vivian.

Afraid he’d hit her, John held his shot.

With dhampyr speed, Vivian swung the butt of her shotgun at my head as I closed with her.
She underestimated my speed.

I ducked under her swing, speared a shoulder into her midsection, and lifted her off her feet. Together, we sailed through the
one-way glass
. It shattered around us and the noise of the bar hit us like a wall. We dropped in a rain of razor shards, and I made sure the dhampyr hit first, cushioning my fall for me. The impact knocked her out. I checked for vital signs. Her breathing was strong. Takes almost as much to stop a dhampyr as a full vampire. That was good. As a hostage, she’d get me out of here, and after I interrogated her, I’d know where Salem was. Overall, things were looking up for a change.