Demon Master 2 (The Demon Master Series) Read online

  Her thighs were slick with blood, and her tongue was bitten to ruin by a smiling monster holding a stone knife to her neck. She spat a tooth on the ground and tried to rise, but slumped back, the sky and the swan spinning, whirling away in a twisting blur, and gradually, she lost consciousness, wondering if she would ever wake again. At thirty-six summers, she was a grandmother twice over and one of the oldest women in her village. Now, she was almost certainly the oldest person still alive, a testament to her resiliency and general toughness. It had not helped that even after six children, three of whom lived, she remained a beautiful woman with long blonde hair and dark blue eyes that reflected the sea and the stones around her. Even her body had retained some youthful qualities, although the attentions of the raiders smudged her features into a mass of bruises, and left a shallow bite mark on her cheek.

  The grass was cool on her face as she faded into horrid dreams throughout the night, only rising to vomit and void her bladder as the sun rose on a holocaust of scorched timber and stone that had been her life. Gods, let me die. Please. She turned on her side and began crying anew, but the gods did not hear her, and she lived on.

  4

  Florida: Ring

  “Ring? Honey? Are you here?” Wally stood over me, phone in hand with the receiver covered, as I lazed on the couch. “Sounds important. He asked for you, wouldn’t speak to me or Risa.”

  I nodded once and reached out, taking the phone and holding it to my ear. “This is Ring.” I was neutral. We don’t get many phone calls on the land line, and if we do, it’s almost always family or friends. That meant this was an unusual call, and if we’ve learned anything from the past year, we hate unusual.

  “Mister Hardigan, what a pleasure to find you available.”

  There was only one voice in the world that made my skin crawl. Joseph. My least favorite servant among the Undying, he had vanished along with Delphine just prior to our fight with Elizabeth, which resulted in our low profile as we healed and reconsidered our chosen profession. I hated him. I sat bolt upright and waved Wally over, miming that she should pick up the other receiver.

  “What do you want?” I snapped. I could hear each breath whistling through his nose as he considered his words.

  “I’ll be direct. Miss Delphine would like to meet, for dinner.” I saw Wally and Risa nodding vigorously near the other phone. They wanted a piece of her yesterday. Their collective grudge was impressive, even for women who nursed them in tandem for years. I know.

  “All three of us, or not at all. We choose the place and the time. And you pay.” The last condition I added merely to irritate his slavish dedication to manners. Tough shit, sport. You left us swinging.

  I heard a murmur that could only be Delphine, and he said simply, “Agreed. What is convenient for you and your partners?” To his credit, he seemed to use the term without inflection, which was an improvement.

  “I think we’re in the mood for something French, Joseph. A table for four, at Cerise. Tomorrow at eight o’clock. We’ll meet you there.” Before he could speak again, I clicked off. Risa and Wally both shrugged and went to see if I had a clean jacket. They trust me to kill immortals, but not to dress. All the important decisions, well, I leave those alone. My mother didn’t raise a fool.

  Night found me pacing the dock with Gyro. The breeze was fat with humidity, and I finally sat, legs dangling over the canal, while Gyro walked to me and slumped, presenting his massive chest for a rub. I obliged. Risa sat next to me without making a sound, her eyes taking in the moon, the sky, all of it. Even in our crowded town, there was still something to be said for the water acting as a shield against the press of people all around us. The canal drank in the noise of the city. Water could be loud, but now, it was peaceful.

  “I love this. All of it— our home, you, Wally, even this big goof.” She punctuated her statement with a solid thump of Gyro’s rib. He rose to nuzzle her appreciatively and then resettled.

  “I sense a however coming,” I said.

  She laughed. Sometimes I know her too well, since nothing she could say would augment my sense of peace in that moment. We were safe. We were well rested, and getting more so, but we were hiding, and I knew it. She put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed, letting it slide with a hesitation that was both familiar and sad.

  “I saw you walking back and forth. The moon never lets you leave its gaze, does it? Just like our responsibility. To each other, our family, and that pile of money we sit on, all of the things that we do. It’s always there, waiting. We can’t outrun it, and we can’t ignore it, so we have to engage it on our own terms, no matter how much we want this moment to remain unchanged. And that makes me sad because Wally and I don’t have to do the killing, but you do, and someday I’m afraid that you aren’t coming home with us.” Her eyes were bright.

  Hell, mine were too. I had that same thought, often, and it made me feel like I was over a black chasm with no bottom and no sides.

  “Delphine called us because something is in motion, and we all know it. So, we go to dinner, but we do so with the intent of being the aggressor, okay?” She held my hand tightly, a grip that whitened her fingers and left no doubt as to what would happen to anyone who got in our way. I savored the moon once more, and then stood, pulling Risa to her feet.

  “You’re right. Wally is, too, although she’ll be a bit more vocal about how we’re going to proceed with this. But yes, something is coming. War, maybe, or maybe it never went away and we’ve just been pretending.” We walked back inside. Suddenly, it didn’t seem warm and humid. Or safe, for that matter.

  5

  Florida: Ring

  “So how exactly does this work?” Delphine gestured at the three of us, her delicate wave loaded with meaning and curiosity.

  I sat very still, knowing that neither Risa nor Wally would take the question as an inquiry, but more of an affront to their authority, womanhood, and our home in general. It was an uncomfortable moment. Three women of great beauty and will sat around me in a restaurant that oozed with understated elegance. You would think I’d be happy, but I knew that this meeting could go very well, or very badly, and fast, judging by the frosty expression on Risa and Wally’s faces.

  The sommelier came and went in an instant after Delphine directed him to find an arcane bottle of a wine. The waiter followed suit with our hasty orders and we were left alone for the moment. I sat thinking that the less said, the better until the tension between the women dissipated. I knew that just because she had on heels, Wally would still love nothing more than punching Delphine in her perfect face.

  Risa drew a breath, intending, no doubt, to inform Delphine that our relationship worked very well, and other than meeting and brawling with the upjumped devil herself, we had a life that could be envied. I think her terms may have been a bit more direct and involved a vivid anatomical lesson or three, but before she could speak, Wally interrupted.

  “Why are we here?” Wally’s question was a serious one. She did not waste words with immortals.

  Delphine folded her small hands in front of her and considered us for a moment. I could see the second that she decided to be truthful; it was a moment of genuine conflict on her placid beauty. In a quiet voice, Delphine began to reveal herself and her origin, and it all began with a foggy, gritty shore twenty-four centuries earlier, and a woman who walked from the sea to save her.

  “Elizabeth came out the of the sea like a demon, gutting and killing every single raider who burned, raped, and murdered on my island. She was covered in gore—like you’ve never seen,” Delphine said.

  “We’ve seen a lot of blood,” I said.

  Delphine nodded. “I know. This was different. She loved it. Pieces of men everywhere. Like confetti, and she did it all in this thick fog that was somewhere between ice and mist. Frigid, but hot with blood, too. She killed them all, and even as the last ones were dying, she came to me, held out her hand—I could only see out of one eye—and God help me I took it. I took
the hand of a demon and let her save me. I thought for the first time in my life that I was safe. Really, truly safe.” Delphine shook her head in disgust. “I wasn’t, though.”

  The girls sat, unmoved by Delphine’s story. Risa gathered herself first and spoke quietly. “I’m not dismissive of your suffering. I can understand—”

  Delphine’s bark of laughter interrupted her. “Understand? Understand what exactly? The gang rape? The torture? Vomiting filthy water and the seed of my assailants onto the crushed shells that slashed my back as those creatures took their pleasure? Or perhaps your unique worldview, Waleska, leads you to understand being torn with grief as I watched my children, wholly innocent, who I had nurtured and fought to save for all their lives from a world that frankly didn’t give a shit.” Delphine gulped wine and lunged back at us with her accusation. “Perhaps seeing those very children be stolen forever, for who knows what purpose. Rape? Servitude? I’ll never know because they are gone, have been gone for millennia, with the chirp of crickets filling their bones since before Jesus walked.”

  I interjected before anything could send our dinner further into the depths. “Allow me to rephrase our original question, Delphine. Why are we here? You have to admit, this is an unusual meal. You’re a killer.”

  “And you’re not?” Delphine asked.

  Point taken. “We’re semi-retired. We’re still healing, sort of, and we’ve got a taste for taking it easy. As far as we were concerned, you vanished, but the one time that we reached out to an immortal without the express intent to kill her, you weren’t there for us. Perhaps you can understand why we feel this way. So to be blunt, what do you want?”

  Delphine sipped her wine, twirling the stem with fake nerves. Nothing made the woman nervous, ever. It was a bit of theater intended to make her look thoughtful. We all knew better, and moreover, she knew we did. I became irritated, but then she spoke, and for a rare moment I was surprised.

  “I am indeed sorry for abandoning you during the incident with Elizabeth,” she began, only to be cut off.

  “Incident?” I shot back. “Now that’s an understatement. She nearly killed Wally, hacked Risa, and then threatened our family and friends. And somehow, more disturbing to me personally, she was able to take my knife right in her heart, fall to the concrete, and resurface as some kind of fucking demonic grandmother two months later. She is also presumably alive and well somewhere, planning God knows what for us. Incident? What a chicken shit way to admit that you got spooked by an immortal with more juice than you, so you ran like a scalded cat.” I was pissed now, and Wally’s hand on my forearm barely kept me from boiling over, but only by the thinnest of margins. Now, Delphine’s pause was genuine, so I drew a breath to calm down.

  “That’s true. I made a series of mistakes which led to that act of—cowardice. And I am truly sorry.”

  We believed her, I could feel it.

  “Elizabeth is something different now. She has been becoming something other for longer than you have been alive, I think, and just one aspect of my fear is that I don’t honestly know what will emerge from this change. I truly do not. I do, however, know with clarity what her goal for the future is and will always be, regardless of my existence. She wants to reign in Hell. She always has, and she will not engage in any pursuit that does not further those plans, regardless of the satisfaction that she might receive from them, be it flesh, or sin, or death.” She waved to the waiter for more wine. “As I’ve aged, I’ve learned to plan ahead, sometimes years in the future for issues pertinent to my survival. I avoided wars, when possible, although some immortals rush towards conflict. I do not. I prefer a life of comfort and anonymity, the opposite of what I left behind when Elizabeth turned me. Perhaps it is this desire that has blinded me to the roots of power in Hell, but I cannot fathom being strong enough to not only know who rules, but to believe that I am capable of challenging for the crown, so to speak. Do you see? That type of confidence and ability can only be based on power or vanity. Does Elizabeth strike you as particularly vain?”

  Elizabeth was exquisite to look at and wielded power over men like a weapon, but somehow vanity seemed beneath her. It was too common for her. She was an elitist asshole under her beautiful exterior.

  “No, I don’t think it matches with what she wants. She assumes that she is desired; she doesn’t crave that type of confirmation.” I saw Risa and Wally agree with me. We had seen enough of Elizabeth to make that call. “I think it’s safe to assume she believes she is ready to challenge for the crown? If there is something that tangible to confirm her position?”

  I could not envision an object as mundane as a crown on the head of Elizabeth. It wasn’t her style. Delphine made as if to rise, but instead reached in a small clutch first and handed a thumb drive to Risa.

  “I may be able to help establish just what Elizabeth is thinking, but I know you don’t trust me, and I wouldn’t expect you to, given our history. I’m a creature of habit who lived for centuries in fear of forgetting my humanity. In order to preserve my own history, I saved things.”

  “Trophies?” Wally asked.

  “You make it sound so sinister. Call them keepsakes, or simply physical proof of my life tying me to the remaining kernel of my humanity.” Delphine adopted a dreamy voice, her eyes looking past us, then snapped to and explained. “Regardless of what we call them, I also saved every correspondence I’ve ever received. Some are crass, a few threats, and the usual array of love letters brought on by my particular skills.” I didn’t have to look; I could feel Risa rolling her eyes. “It may interest you to know that Elizabeth has written me over the ages. Long, beautifully crafted letters designed to make me feel cheap and stupid. What you will find among these letters is that she has unintentionally revealed the architecture of her plans for you, and in turn, how she plans on seizing power. The scope of her lies is beyond anything I could achieve, and I’m in awe of her vision and commitment to an absolute disregard for humanity. I don’t expect you to put me on the throne of Hell, if there is such a thing. I only want you to read her words to realize exactly how different I am from Elizabeth. There is no joy in her, not one sliver of playfulness or laughter. She is totally reptilian and devoid of the capacity for empathy or love—she may be entirely free of emotion at this stage in her existence. Before he became my valet, Joseph was, and still is, a talented linguist, just are you are becoming, Risa. He is also a perfectionist, and his translations of her thoughts are accurate and nearly flawless. A wealth of information rests here.” She handed a small flash drive to Risa. “Read her letters. See the patterns. And then, soon, come to my vessel for dinner and we’ll talk.”

  The dinner was over and moments later we were at the valet stand awaiting our vehicle. Joseph avoided our eyes as he held the door for Delphine, who slid gracefully across the seat and primly adjusted her dress to cover a golden thigh. The breeze carried the lightest odor of rot to my nose. I saw Risa and Wally stiffen in recognition as they, too, smelled Joseph.

  I leaned in to kiss Delphine on the cheek and whispered, “Joseph is not long for this world, but you know that. Ask yourself if his change is intentional, or has Elizabeth taken more from you than you realize?” She didn’t answer as the door closed and they pulled away in a wash of warm air, gone to her hiding place on the water, but her fear now known to us, for better or for worse.

  6

  Florida: Ring

  I pulled up in front of the Hardigan Center to find Glen Ferloch wrestling a bizarrely mounted orange tree into his truck. Trees were his business, or rather transplanting trees was his business, but I’d admit what I saw was something new, even from him. A small orange tree was mounted to a series of flat boards and had clearly been trained to grow with its limbs straight out and completely on the same plane. Jumping out to help him lift the heavy clay pot holding the tree, he saw the question on my face.

  “It’s espalier, a very old French technique of training trees to grow flat against the wall of a home or c
astle. The sun warms them sooner in cold areas, and they produce fruit earlier in the year. Pretty, too.” He admired his handiwork that now stood upright in the bed of his truck. It was nearly six feet tall and covered with obedient blooms down the length of each arrow-straight limb.

  “I have a client asking if it’s feasible to do several different citrus trees on a long wall of their home. They’re paying, so I’m growing.” He finished with the confidence of a man who knows his business.

  “It looks almost like torture.” I felt sorry for the tree. It seemed so regulated.

  “Think of it as training. And, a lot less insects!” Glen was an eternal optimist.

  “Buy you lunch at the Butterfly?” I asked.

  I was heading in to eat and see the family, so to speak, even though we really didn’t resemble each other very much. At 6’3”, I don’t get mistaken for a Thai very often. Boon and Pan don’t look overly Norwegian either. Such is the nature of my growing circle of trusted friends.

  Glen smiled. “Gotta get this to Weston. You know how rich folks are.”

  I did because, technically, I was rich, but you’d never know it because I still love fast food and used cars. I wished him well as he fired up his truck and pulled out, and I let my nose begin the guessing game I like to call “What’s Pan Cooking?” The best part, of course, was that no matter what the special was, I never lost.

  7

  New Orleans: Herr Kreiger

  “A check? You want to pay with a check?”

  To his credit, the real estate agent’s voice didn’t crack, but it did quiver slightly at the thought of such an enormous commission. Owen had yet to make his first sale after three months as the most junior member of a small firm that primarily listed commercial properties, and when Herr Kreiger had called him, asking about homes with very specific qualities, he had lunged at the opportunity. Within a day, he assembled several older, private homes in the most cloistered neighborhood New Orleans had to offer, and his customer, Herr Kreiger had shown remarkable patience with his inexperience. Owen spent a full day driving his client from home to home, where the reactions ranged from a terse nod to a minimal smile. It seemed that Owen’s attempt at real estate was a failure, but then his efforts turned golden in one instant as Herr Kreiger announced that he would purchase all seven homes at their list price, with no negotiation, and a closing date to be arranged at the soonest possible moment.