Green-Eyed Demon

I scooted in for a better look. “Am I hallucinating?”



“Depends,” Adam began. “In your hallucination is the lead singer of Necrospank 5000 watching a midget give his drummer a golden shower?”



My head swiveled toward him. “Huh?”



Adam nodded toward the sunglasses guy. “That’s Erron Zorn.”



“Who?” Giguhl’s pink nose smashed against the glass in front of his face.



“Necrospank is a shock rock band. Erron Zorn is the lead singer. He’s also a mage.”



I jerked in shock. “A mage? What’s he doing in New Orleans? Rhea and Orpheus called all the mages to court.”



Adam shrugged. “He’s a recreant.”



“What’s that?” Giguhl asked.



“An outcast mage. They’re shunned by the Hekate Council.” The scorn in his voice indicated Adam’s opinion on recreants in general. He paused and hit me on the arm. “Oh, shit. Is that a gimp?”



“Awesome,” Giguhl breathed with reverence. “This is way better than the Temptation Channel.”



“Seriously,” I said. “Too bad we didn’t bring snacks.”



We all went silent as one of the ladies mounted the gimp. He wore assless chaps and a zippered mask. The ball gag prevented any protests as the midget slapped at his haunches with a whip, like a miniature jockey. She urged him to turn and crawl toward the couch. The second his ass swung around, we got an unobstructed view of his—



“Oh!” We all yelled in unison. I jumped away from the window, rubbing at my eyes as if I could erase the image burned into my retinas. But some things can never be unseen.



Adam blew out a breath and swung his arms around like he was trying to shake them off. Even Giguhl looked a little green around the whiskers and refused to look in the window again.



“All righty then,” I said. “So I think it’s safe to assume there’re no vampires here.”



“After that I almost wish there had been,” Adam responded.



A crash reverberated inside the house. “I think that’s our cue to leave,” I said, turning toward the gate. The three of us skulked back to the street with postures that could only be described as penitent. I’ll admit, the irony of our little trio of badasses being embarrassed by some kinky antics burned a bit.



“We must never speak of this again,” Adam said.



I nodded. “Agreed.”



“I never thought I’d say this,” Giguhl said from Adam’s arms. “But what I just saw makes me never want to speak of sex again, period.”



Adam and I stopped walking to shoot him “bullshit” looks.



He sighed. “Okay maybe not never, but definitely not for the next five minutes.” He shuddered and snuggled against Adam’s chest.



For the next couple of minutes, we quietly made our way back up the street toward the car. With each step, my horrified amusement over the midget porn gave way to darker musings. Yet again, I’d hit another dead end. I’d made so little progress in finding Maisie I was tempted to put the blame on Tanith’s door. It’d be so easy to just throw up my hands and believe she’d withheld some vital piece of information. Tempting, but unrealistic. Tanith had good reasons for wanting Lavinia dead, too. If she had information that would aid in that goal she would have told us, right? Which brought me right back to Sabina being a failure.



Adam fell into step beside me, with Giguhl tucked in his elbow like a football. “Uh-oh,” he said. “You’ve got that look again.”



Frowning, I looked at him. “Which one?”



“The one you get when you’re blaming yourself for something.”



I snorted. “I wasn’t aware I had a specific look for that.”



“Sure you do,” Giguhl chimed in. “Your eyes get all squinty, and you get these lines between your eyebrows.”



My hand flew up to the spot. Sure enough, a furrow had formed. I smoothed the skin and heaved a deep sigh. “I can’t help it. I’m getting nowhere fast.”



“See, that’s the real problem,” Adam said. “You’ve got pronoun issues.”



The furrow reappeared as I stared at him. “What?”



“Mmm-hmm,” G said. “Unlike that freaky butcher, you only speak in the first person.”



I frowned at the demon. “No I don’t.”



“You just did,” Adam said with a small smile. He nudged me with his arm. “Come on, Red. It’s frustrating Mac’s lead didn’t pan out, but it’s not the end of the world or our only lead. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”



“Right,” G said. “Go, Team Kickass!”



Adam and I shot the demon bemused looks.



“What? You like ‘Team Awesome’ better?”



My lips twitched. “Definitely.”



“Okay,” Adam said. “Now that we have that important matter out of the way, what’s next?”



I took a deep breath and let the cool night air cleanse the last of the guilt. The breeze brought with it the perfume of entropy that clung to New Orleans like a tattered cape. The sharp scent of browning magnolia leaves, the dank richness of the soil, the heady musk of sex.



Just as the air started to work its magic on me, the putrid scent of dirty pennies hit my nose like a sucker punch.



I grabbed Adam’s arm to still his progress. My heart hammered behind my ribs. “Do you smell that?” I whispered.



He shook his head. Not a surprise he couldn’t. I owed my keen sense of smell to my vampire genes.



“Shit,” Giguhl said. I wasn’t sure if it was his feline sense of smell or his innate demon instincts that alerted him, but I was too busy trying to locate the source.



“I can’t tell how many, but judging from the concentration of the scent, there’s several vamps nearby.”



Adam tensed and searched the darkness. “Can you tell how close they are?”



I shook my head. “No, but look alive.”



He nodded and we started walking again, our eyes alert for signs of attack. We crossed the street and turned left toward the Gremlin squatting in front of a lichencovered cemetery wall. The streetlight above shone down accusingly, like it was exposing an anachronism.



One second, the path to the car was clear. The next, a wave of static was our only warning before eight vampires materialized in a circle around us. I did a quick survey. In addition to those, four more crouched on the cemetery wall. Eight males and four females total. Old, judging from the varying shades of deep red— not a strawberry among them. None held weapons in their hands, but a couple had visible blades ready to be drawn.



Blood pumped fast with adrenaline through my veins. My gun appeared in my hand as if, instead of merely relying on instinct, I’d conjured it. Luckily, I’d reloaded it with fifteen apple-cider bullets before we’d headed out.



“What the hell do you want?” I demanded. Next to me, Adam dropped Giguhl to the ground and tensed for action.



I didn’t recognize any of the vamps. Not surprising, given we weren’t on my turf. But judging from their confident postures, we weren’t dealing with a garden-variety gang trolling for fast food.



A pale vamp, with hair so darkly auburn it was almost black, stepped forward. “The favor of your company has been requested.”



I wasn’t sure which part amused me more— his outdated mode of speech, or the stupid cape he wore like Count Effing Dracula. He even had a widow’s peak, for chrissakes. And the cane he leaned on was nothing more than an affectation.



“And whom, might I ask, issued such a thoughtful invitation?” I asked.



The Count tilted his head, as if I’d asked a stupid question. “Lavinia Kane.”



My heart fluttered with anticipation. Now we were getting somewhere. I lifted a finger to my lip. “Hmm,” I said. “If I might make another suggestion.”



His lips formed a courteous smile, and one glossy eyebrow rose in question.



“How about you and your friends go fuck yourselves and we’ll call it a night?”



The female who stood slightly behind him lurched forward with a snarl. She looked like something straight out of every sword-and-sorcery geek’s wet dream. The sides of her long maroon hair were pulled back to create a spiky half ponytail, while the rest fell in straight sheets down her back. Instead of a cape, she wore black leather pants and a leather-and-chain-mail bustier. I could only see the hilt from where I stood, but she also had a blade strapped to her back. It wasn’t one of those sleek Japanese jobbies, either. We’re talking full-on broadsword action.



The Count held up a hand to stay her. Red Sonja complied immediately, but the daggers in her gaze told me she had plans for the sword that included me.



The caped wonder clucked his tongue at me in reproach. “The Domina predicted you would scoff at her summons.” He nodded to his comrades, who started closing in like a noose. The metallic slide of blade against leather echoed as the female drew her sword. The Count followed suit, pulling his own steel from within his cane. “Which is why we’ve been instructed to kill the mage to ensure your full cooperation.”



Screw that shit , my mind screamed. My response was a squeeze of the trigger.



The Count’s pale hand shot up with preternatural speed. The bullet stopped midair and fell uselessly to the cracked sidewalk.



Ignoring my shock over the unexpected magic use, I squeezed the trigger three more times in quick succession. Again with the hand wave. And again, three bullets hit the asphalt.



The vamps surrounding us didn’t change expression. Not a smile or a laugh or a gloat among them. They just stood there like creepy statues, watching us with shark eyes.



Just as I considered throwing the gun at the guy to see what he’d do, a shock of energy slammed into my hand. The gun ripped from my grasp and flew to the Count. With a reptilian smile, he crumpled the weapon like an aluminum can.



Something was seriously off with these guys. And if this was a preview of what Lavinia had up her sleeve, we were in deeper shit than I realized.