Red Moon Demon (Demon Lord) (8 page)

“Two café mochas, to go,” I said. I turned to Angie, pointed at the sweater and said, “Take a deep whiff then sniff the carpet. Find me a trail to follow.”

EIGHT

Being
evil
is easy
:
y
ou
just have to

perfect
your craft on those who don’t

deserve
compassion
—
p
retty
much

everybody.”

—Caine Deathwalker

She didn’t need to get down on all fours to sniff the carpet. Her nostrils simply flared. “Good thing the clean-up crew used magic instead of bleach to get the blood out of the carpet; otherwise, we’d have no trail.” She walked past the hostess station, into the kitchen.

People looked at us strangely. A male high school kid wearing a hair net and an apron over his street clothes asked, “Can I help you with something?”

“Probably not.” I strolled past him, following Angie to the walk-in freezer. The door was oversized, steel, and set flush to the wall. Angie seized the handle, turned, and pulled it open effortlessly—even in human form she had a large chunk of her werewolf strength.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked. “I remember the girls heading out into the hall, not coming back here.”

“My nose doesn’t lie. Maybe someone clouded your mind. No wait, I’ve seen you drink. You cloud your own mind pretty well, all on your own.” She went in.

I closed the door on her.

The door opened from the inside.

Angie stood there looking at me. “These things are designed to open from the inside so someone can’t accidentally be looked in.”

“I knew that,” I said. “I just wanted to be sure it hadn’t been tampered with.”

She looked skeptically at me, but I’d told her the truth. I’d taken an oath to keep her safe. Until I had a damn good reason to break that oath, I’d keep it.

“So what do you smell now?” I asked.

“Her scent stops right here, and then … nothing.” Angie walked out of the freezer. I closed the door again. She continued, “When I say nothing, I mean nothing at all, I can’t smell anything in this area, not even what I should be able to smell.”

I nodded. “The girls were magically removed, and the scents went along for the ride. Someone’s being very thorough. Let’s go.”

“Where to?” Angie asked.

“A few places I know, where fey and others go to play.” I grabbed our mochas and paid on the way out. “Here.” I handed her the other drink and kept moving, entering the hall, heading for the stairs.

“Thanks,” she said.

I nodded and took a sip. “Being a demon lord and all, the restaurant shouldn’t have charged me. I provide a public service, killing gutter trash that pisses me off.”

She went oddly silent, as if I’d somehow threatened her.

We passed through the lobby where everyone gave us a wide birth. Outside, my car was still in front of the building. I’m so glad it didn’t get destroyed, again. I go through them quickly.

Angie looked at my vehicle in surprise as she slid into the front passenger next to me. “For an old car it looks pretty new.”

“Don’t call her old. She’s vintage,” I said, “with a few improvements.”

The engine came to life when I touched the finger print scanner. I pressed a special section on the underside of the dash, and small, magical holographic screens materialized all around me. The multiple control panels were touch-sensitive, glowing ion blue in two dimensions. They were arranged so that if I ever had to throw myself from the car, they wouldn’t slow me up. The hub of the steering wheel opened and a flat green beam raked my eyes, taking a retinal scan. Sure, someone could cut off my finger and pluck out my eyeball to steal the car, but if they could do that, they deserved a reward.

The green beam produced the floating symbol of my clan. I’d passed the test. I gripped the wheel, and a woman’s voice came out of the speakers.

“Oh, baby, lets get it on.”

Angie looked at me with wide eyes and said, “Izumi’s voice?”

“Yep.”

“Does she know?” Angie asked.

“Nope,” I said.

“We ought to talk later about privacy laws and the misuse of someone’s likeness, actual voice, and pirating of said intellectual property rights,” Angie said.

This is why I hate lawyers
.

“We’ll do that,” I said, “when I give a crap.”

I hit the gas, making us both sink into our seat. I cut off a white stretch limo. Angie’s nails sunk into the arm rest and seat. The sound of my engine made me happy, as I rumbled past numerous cars, weaving in and out of traffic. We stopped at a red light and I checked the GPS. We were two miles from an underground nightclub I knew of. I pointed at a blip on one of the floating blue screens. “This is a good place to start putting word out that I’m looking for the girls.”

She looked at the blip on the screen. “What is this place?”

“
Aes Sídhe
.”

“Icy?”

I pronounced it slowly for her, “
Ice-shee
, a
nightclub for fey and other nightwalkers. The name means ‘People of the Mounds.’”

“Sounds fun, do they have stripers,” Angie asked

The light turned green and I took off. “Yeah, but you never get what’s offered. Ever heard of elfin glamour?”

We got there in no time. The outside looked like a normal night club with a long line of humans, fey, and others waiting to get in. A troll with a broken tusk guarded the door, weeding out the wanna-be preternaturals from the real thing. The bouncer’s knuckles nearly dragged the ground. His feet were bare, and he wore faded denim coveralls held up by one strap. It was Fred. I knew him. I’d once broken a barstool over his head.

I drove past the door, looking for a place to park. It took me a few minutes. I really hated the way people parked here. Surely they could have found spaces further away so as to not inconvenience me. I got out and Angie followed. I pinned her with a cautionary stare. “This place is nice, but it’s been a very long time since they’ve seen a wolf, so keep your head down and don’t kill any one. And if anyone gives you crap, tell them you’re with me.”

“Okay, I’ll be good,” Angie said.

We cut in line right in front of Fred. He waved me through, tapping the scar on his head to show he remembered me. I handed him a hundred and went on in.

The club was on the Goth side of things, go-go girls posed suggestively, hanging from the ceiling from wide swaths of brightly colored silk. Black lights all over the bar gave many pieces of clothing an annoying glare. The dance floor lit up as people and things stepped on different colored tiles. The bartenders worked fast, putting out more alcohol then a distillery.

Overpaid and undersexed patrons prowled for partners, danced, and did assorted drugs with no idea that no matter how much
juice
they had, here, they were at the bottom of the food chain.

But this was L.A. Everywhere you looked, there were cameras and too many high profile Celebs that would be missed, so the fey had learned to feed with restraint, and to protect the frail humans from less scrupulous predators. The demons followed suit, seeing the advantage to nightclubs where humans could get so wasted and high enough they didn’t remember what had happened to them, or what contracts they may have signed in blood.

Angie and I walked toward the back room were the piece-of-crap owner had his office. Fey and demon could look like anything. Not Angie. She gathered speculative stares as we went along. It had been a very long time since a wolf had been anywhere near here. A few decades ago, the fey elders shoved the wolves out of the territory and made it stick. If I didn’t handle this right, there could be war on the streets again.

Two fey guards loitered down a dark hallway, outside a black door. They studied Angie and me. More Angie than me. The massive one on the right smelled of peat bog and dead things. His eyes were yellow with red vertical pupils. He wore all black and seemed to possess a few extra arms. The other guard was thin, not so much a broadsword as a rapier, light on his feet, ready to lunge. There was a jitteriness that got expressed by hands that couldn’t stay still.

He said, “The wolf can’t come in.”

“She’s mine,” I said, “and where I go, my pet goes.”

I smelled Angie’s anger and I was hoping—if the fey sensed it—they’d assume they were the cause, not the fact I’d just called her my pet. Wolves had killed people for less. The big man opened the door and waved us past. Instead of an office, there were stairs. They led up to a second story room above the dance floor. We walked into a large space with sandalwood wood furniture, Elvis pictures on black velvet, but fortunately, no sad-faced clowns. There was an entire wall of one-way glass. The human sitting behind the white desk wore a white suit. His hair was bleached white, as were the foot long, fine lines of coke on the desk before him. The white powder told me Albino John was in a party mood, not a good thing with so many fey around. A little coke in the air could have dangerous, unforeseen effects on them—and anyone close to them.

I nodded a greeting. “John.”

The man lifted his face to me, eyes pink and watery.

“Great, I suppose you’re here to destroy my club again,” John said.

“Tell me, John, how can you do so much coke and still be such a fat sack of rabbit pellets?” I took a seat on his desk, grabbed an erotic paperback on his desk and dropped it on his coke, creating a chalky cloud. I felt the protective ink on my back glimmer to life under my shirt. I bit down on a curse as my blood seemed to turn to lava in my veins.

Always a price for magic
—my kind anyway
.

John sighed. “What do you want, Deathwalker.”

“I’m looking for a new succubus in town. She took two human girls from the Kirishima Building a few hours ago, and I want them back, so put out the word,” I said.

“And why would I do that?”

“50K reward,” I said.

John stood and waddled to the two-way mirror. I hate people who wear white suits; they think they’re better then everyone, as if the purity of their look reflected their miserable little souls.

He spoke without turning, “Okay.”

I started for the stairs, Angie falling in behind me.

“Deathwalker,” he called, “what’s with the wolf?”

I told him what he’d believe. “An illegitimate daughter that wants to bond.”

He turned and leered at me. “I can imagine the type of bonding
you
have in mind. Wouldn’t mind getting a piece of that bitch myself.”

I smiled at him.

He blanched.

A migraine hit like a knife to the skull as I warmed another tat. It would take him awhile to notice, but his lines of coke had turned into cocoa powder. With any luck, he’d snort some before realizing what he was doing. I hoped so. I’d heard of a crack-head made to snort cocoa once. It’s funny how they choke, and cry, and paw at their noses, cursing at the blinding pain.

Smile widening, I led Angie downstairs.

“Not a lot of people like you, do they?” She said.

“Surprisingly, no.”

We got back to the car, and headed to the next night spot favored by Preternaturals.

NINE

“Vampires and whores are related

species; neither have souls.”

—
Caine Deathwalker

Rhino’s Bar and Grill was owned by Rhino, a former lineman in the NFL. He was big as one of the African brutes, and almost as intelligent, hence the nickname. His afro was close-clipped, and he sported a goatee and mustache. His 4X shirt was a Hawaiian monstrosity;
o
live green palm trees on a field of arterial red. Above his head, a large screen TV set to the sports channel displayed a soccer game re-run.

He looked up from wiping the bar as I came in. His nose had been broken several times, actually improving his face. A huge grin appeared. One of his teeth had a snap-on gold sheath.

“Gonna start trouble?” he asked. “Been a while since we had a good fight in here.”

“Just might be your lucky day,” I said.

“Looks like yours, fer sure.” His glance slid over Angie who trailed me in.

I slid onto an empty bar stool. Angie took the one to my left.

I said, “Give me a Bacardi Hurricane, and a Cosmo Cocktail for the lady.”

Down the bar from us, a couple of werecat
ladies
had both hands bracketing strawberry daiquiris, as if afraid someone might snatch them away. I understood their attitude. The
kitties
were often picked on by the rest of the shape-shifting community because they were perceived as weak. That was true here in L.A. but up in Sacramento, a stranger had recently blown into town, bonded with a local tabby, and had broken the back of the local wolf pack. He’d ripped out the heart of the local
Alpha
, as well, carving out his territory with brutal efficiency.

I’d heard he was a wereliger, half lion, half tiger, weighing in at twenty-five hundred pounds after changing. Mass usually didn’t get added with shape-shifting. This guy broke a lot of rules. Sounded like someone I’d like to meet, when all this trouble was over.

The kitties sniffed the air, turning their faces toward Angie.

She smiled at them, showing a little fang while in human form.

I’d never seen a person literally go white with fear, but the kitties did. They looked to be in their late teens, and reeked of nervous inexperience. Since I might need a little good will with the cat clans one day, I intervened. “Angie, down girl.”

She looked at me like I’d stolen her chew toy.

I put steel in my tone. “Be nice or go wait in the car.”

Looking forward, she grumbled beneath her breath, but was glad enough to pounce on the cranberry vodka set in front of her. A tall electric blue drink with a slice of lemon on the rim appeared in front of me on a napkin.

“There you go,” Rhino said, his towel thrown over a shoulder.

I nodded thanks, and jerked a thumb toward the kitties. “Their next drink is on me.”

“
You’re
buying a drink, Rhino said, “and there’s no gun to your head?”

I glared at him. “You trying to say I’m cheap?”

My glower bounced harmlessly off of him the same way a two-by-four might have. He grinned, not when you’re spending on yourself. “Hey, Caine, have you heard…?”

At the casual dropping of my name, the supernaturals in the room went deathly quiet—for some reason. Only the humans with their normal, weak hearing were oblivious. The tension around the kitties got thick enough to carve with a katana.

I met Rhino’s cold, dark stare. “Heard what?” I asked.

“There’s strange folk in the city, making the rounds.”

Took a sip from my drink, testing the flavor. “Wolves?”

He shook his head. “No, humans, but tough bas
tards all the
same. They’re well strapped, and don’t seem to like your kind.”

Angie offered a comment, “Maybe some kind of government taskforce, or spooks, looking into PNs?”

Just what the preternatural community needs.”
Just what I need;
s
omething else to look into
. I slid Rhino a hundred. “Thanks. You hear anymore…”

He smiled, flashing that gold-capped tooth. His meaty palm slapped over the bill. “You’ll be the first to hear.”

I raised my voice, wanting the kitties and other shifters in the bar to pick up on what I had to say, “By the way, you hear of a succubus working my territory, I want to know. She’ll have two abducted women with her. I’m offering fifty K for information leading to their recovery.”

Several PNs hurried from the room, wanting to get a running start on that reward. Word would go out. Fast. Even things that go bump in the night need cash. My work here was done, but I lingered over my drink.

The werecats finished their drinks and ordered two more. One of them got up. Circled Angie at a respectful distance, and came around to my other side. “I want to thank you for the drinks,” h
er
voice had the faintest suggestion of a
purr
to it.

“No, problem.”

“You’re Caine Deathwalker,”
s
he said.

“I know.”

“I mean, dude, I thought you were just made up, an urban legend or something.”

“That too.”

“Look, normally I mind my own business—”

“Good idea,” Angie growled.

Eyes wide, on me,
s
he ignored her. “—But seeing as how you bought us drinks and all…”

“Get to the point,” I suggested.

“Yes, Sir, I thought you outta know, these strangers in town, they’re not feds. Word is they’re looking for some kinda stolen artifact
, a
nd waving around some woman’s picture.”

“Interesting. That all you know?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You have our thanks and mayest now leave our exalted presence.” I waved h
er
away. Too bad I didn’t have a ring for h
er
to kiss. I think
s
he’d have been thrilled. It is good to be the king.

We finished our drinks and moved on to few more bars. The one I saved for last was going to be tricky. I parked the car across the street and turned to Angie. “I don’t think this is a place where you want to be. You should wait here for me.”

She looked out the window at the club. Above double doors painted crimson, a black panel sported neon lettering;
Pandemonium
. The first three and last three letters were yellow. The word demon in the middle was rendered in red. The bouncer outside was dressed like an old black-and-white movie version of a vampire. He had slicked-back hair, a widow’s peak, a dark Victorian suit, white gloves, and a red-lined, black cape.

“Isss that a vampire?” Angie slurred.

“Probably not. They have too much pride to do so lowly a job. That’s probably a human with plastic fangs. There will be a lot of wanna-bes inside, and a few of the real thing feeding on them discretely. The place serves a great Bloody Mary.”

“You think I can’t handle a few Vampsss?”

“You are rather drunk,” I said. “And I’d like to get you back to William in one piece.”

She blinked at me. “I’m in one piece.”

“So far,” I said. “Look, just stay here, and if you feel like throwing up, open the car door and stick your head out. I just had this vehicle detailed.”

“I wanna go in and get another drink.”

“Stay here and I’ll buy you some beef jerky.”

“Don’t want beef jerky. Wanna drink.” She opened the door and slid out, tottering toward the door.

I got out and went around; closing the door she’d left open. I hurried after her. She was halfway across the street where a ‘62 cutlass convertible low-rider had stopped. The vehicle was full of Latinos wearing black and gold bandanas. One of them stood up in the back, making beckoning motions toward her. “Hey,
chica
, c’mon, come party with us. We’ll treat you right.”

Angie pointed at the club. “I’m going in there for a drink.”

The man in the front passenger seat held up a twelve pack of Tecate beer. “I got your drink right here, chica.”

By then, I’d caught up to her, taking her arm, pulling her back from the car’s grill. “Lady’s with me,” I said.

“Fuck you,” the driver said. “We saw her first.”

I looked at him, warming up my
Dragon Voice
tat, feeling meat hooks yanking on my spine. I growled through the blinding pain and shouted, “Go drive into a street light.”

My voice shattered the windshield. The driver‘s eyes glazed over. He floored the gas pedal and the car peeled rubber, tearing away. I steered Angie for the nightclub door, figuring I’d better keep her somewhat near me.

We’d just reached the bouncer, cutting to the front of the line, when the sound of a car crash reached us. A moment later, there was an explosion. A fireball rose in a cloud of oily smoke. Finding this hilarious, Angie had a fit of giggles.

“You can’t cut the line,” the bouncer told me.

I handed him a hundred.

He pointed at Angie. “Don’t you think she’s had enough already?”

I handed him another hundred. He started to say something else. I opened my coat and showed him one of my guns. “If you say anything else but ‘
come in
,’ I’m going to empty a clip in your face.”

He moved to the side and waved us in.

Who says you can’t get good service anymore.

The décor reminded me of an old school insane asylum; cracked concrete walls, lanterns swinging on chains, chains and manacles on the walls, a bedlam of voices, and bartenders in straightjackets with the sleeves torn off. There was a girl band on stage with pink and green hair, orange coveralls, matching lipstick, heavy black and purple makeup around the eyes, and spiked dog collars. The lead singer was hot with a body made for sin. She wore combat boots and a diamond chip on the side of her nose, and razorblade earrings. Unfortunately, her voice sounded like she’d gargled with Drano.
Her lyrics stabbed t
hrough the haze stage lights, the mash of screaming guitars, and thudding drums:

Broken dreams cut
my feet,

Ill winds
drive
me into the street,

Sanity
’s just
a mask I wear—

Take some pain— I’m glad to share—

Angie started dancing, her boobs bouncing pleasantly as she jerked and weaved about. I let her go, figuring if I made it fast, I could get back quickly and round her up. As the crowd absorbed her, I went to the bar and caught the eye of a bartender with a handlebar mustache.

“What can I get you,” he asked.

“Tell Adrian I want to see him.”

“And you would be?”

“Just tell him to move his ass. I’m in a hurry.”

“Hurry to die,” the bartender said. “You stay right there. I’m passing your message on
verbatim
.”

“Reading the dictionary again?”

He flashed fangs at me that were real. “I just hope they leave a little of you for me to taste when they’re through.”

I smiled at him. “Can we just get this party started? It’s been a long night.”

Like smoke from a fire, vamp goons appeared on both sides of me, taking my arms. They squeezed so I’d feel their unnatural strength and tremble. Vamps like their prey scared. It’s supposed to enrich the flavor of blood. They hustled me to a private room where a small part was in progress.
Three
scantily clad girls were strewn on a long table, eyes glassy, throats ripped out. At the head of the table stood Adrian, a Champaign glass
filled with blood
in his hand.
He wore a black suit, with red
shirt and pocket handkerchief.

A female vamp hung on him like a barnacle. She had black hair, too red lips, and pallor borrowed from a corpse. Her dangerous curves had been shimmied into a little black dress. She eyed my throat hungrily.

Adrian smiled
without baring his fangs. He
understated what he was
, having a distaste for the usual posing that’s so much a part of vamp culture.
“Caine, didn’t I tell you that the next time I saw you I’d put stake
s
through both your ey
es?” The passion in his voice told me he meant every word.