Demon Lord 3: Blue Star Priestess (30 page)

THIRTY-ONE

“A bigger hammer fixes everything.”

                                       —Caine Deathwalker

Selene pressed in behind me as I peeked out the barely open door.  The hallway was clear, but I heard tramping of feet.  I closed the door to the thinnest crack that still let me see out.  A moment later,
Audumor scurried across my line of sight, leading a dozen of the Queen’s Knives. After the last sleeveless, black-robe passed by, hiding in their hoods, I opened the door and stepped out, pulling Selene with me.  I activated my demons wings to keep us hidden in what would otherwise be plain sight, and to have a reservoir of shadow magic ready.  It felt like a guillotine dropped on my head, sheering off the back of my skull.  I staggered a step, but kept going, knowing the sensation as a ghost in my brain, just another payment for magic. 

Selene hooked four fingers into the back of my waistband so I could tug her along.  Her endless depths of energy didn’t seem to kick in except during sex, then vixen have mercy!  We stayed behind the Knives, letting them clear all others from our path. 

“Should we not gather the regular guards and search room to room for the escaped prisoners?”  I knew that voice, the one I’d last seen with a talking demon head.

Audumor
nodded, “My thought exactly, but the queen says strange forces are at work, and the portents command haste.  Besides, the dragon-born outlander is doubtless searching for the king, vainly, but he can’t be rescued if he isn’t here.”

Ah, they’re moving the
Old Man.  We’ll just follow along and wait for our chance.

The Knives swept past several doorways until they came to one that was double-wide with a pair of armored demon keeping watching. 
Audumor handed one of them a small scroll.  The guard read and handed it back.  He glanced at this companion, “We’re relieved.”

“Fine with me.”  They tramped off. 

Audumor used the scroll to point at two Knives.  “You two, go in and drag him out, and be quick about it.  The queen is waiting for us at the temple.”

Now which temple would that be?

Scuffling sounds came from inside the room.  A moment later, the two Knives returned, jostling a young man between them, controlling him with a yoke I knew all too well.  It was the same kind the Old Man had slapped on me back in my time.  This was how he knew of such a thing.  It had once been used on him.  Remembering this, he’d wanted me to be familiar with it.  In fact, he had to know that I’d go back in time to meet his younger self. 

Cunning Old Bastard.

Except he wasn’t Old, not here.  He looked like he’d just started shaving.  His chest was shallow.  His arms and legs were defined but lacked the massive muscles he’d develop in coming centuries. The tattoo and scar patterns visible were a lot fewer than those I remembered, and this younger self still had another foot and a half to grow.  In my time, he shaved his head.  Here, his hair was a wild shock of turquoise that contrasted well with his murky blue tunic and gold-rope sandals.  He had a definite surfer-dude vibe going on.  And looked like he could be a brother to Lauramus, his son from the future.

“When I get out of this thing,” he promised, “you are all going to pay.  Buckets of blood.  Buckets!”

A couple of the Knives laughed.  One said, “I’m shaking in my sandals.”

They held the king in the first row, shoving him along behind
Audumor. 

Selene and I followed like church mice as the group took back passages, avoiding servants as much as possible.  Eventually, we came outside of a palace with wrap around, marble columns.  From the position of the sun, it looked to be just after noon.  A wagon waited with a pair of horses to pull it.  If Lauphram expected a fancy litter born by slaves, he was much disappointed.  One of the Knives pulled a black bag down over his head.  Several others picked him up bodily and tossed him onto the flatbed.  The Knives surrounded the wagon. 
Audumor climbed up to keep the young king under control during the trip.

While this was going on, I turned and grabbed Selene’s wrist and tugged her around the vehicle to where the horses waited patiently.  I petted one, then the other, softly murmuring sweet-nothings, getting animals used to an unseen presence.  One stamped a little, but quieted as Selene joined me in giving them quiet attention.  We went between them, and climbed up, which was difficult as hell since my
Demon Wings
tattoo only cloaked her as long as she stayed physically in touch with me.   Riding bareback was made a little better by gripping the harnesses, but we still had to be careful of the reins flicked at us, lying as low on the horses as could be managed. 

The driver flicked the reins and they slapped my back.  I’d have been in trouble if Selene hadn’t licked the scratches closed before abandoning the bed.  She’d assured me I wouldn’t have any scars, but had sounded strangely disappointed that that was so.  I wondered how long it would take her to grow into her other self, this weak, dependent woman had her appeal, but I like strong and powerful a little better.  Now, if there was a way to mix the two…  My dragon and I looked at Selene, pondering. 

We clutched the horses as they pulled us along the stone streets.  The driver didn’t call for haste since we were at the top of the city, moving down the highest hill.  If anything, he kept the horses reined in so the Knives didn’t fall behind.  We passed the estates of nobles, big walled villas with cypress threes stabbing the sky just inside.  We passed what looked like a city park.  There was a statue of some ancient long-bearded king on a horse there, wagging a short sword over his head.

We passed a few building built on the same massive scale as the palace.  Temples.  I figured one of these for our destination.  Sure enough, we turned off the street onto temple grounds.  Oddly, the temple chosen was smaller than its neighbors, in more disrepair.  Tufts of grass had shoved up between flagstones.  A few roof tiles had fallen from a second building where novice priests might once have lived.  Many seasons of leaves had accumulated around the bases of saplings that looked like they’d gone wild.  There was a decided lack priests sweeping up, or chanting prayers.  It seemed that some god or goddess had fallen into disfavor, so the Queen had commandeered the abandoned temple for her dark purposes.

The horses were reined in, so the wagon came to rest by a flight of marble stairs.  My arm ached from reaching across to Selene, and her arm couldn’t be much better, though she did have that healing magic of hers.  But if she could heal away the lactose acid in her muscles that caused tiredness, why was she clinging to me for support all the time?

My inner dragon laughed at me. 
Stupid as a human
.

What?
I asked.

She clings b
ecause she wants to.

Oh.

I slid off my mount, watching for tangling lines, kept my grip on her hand as I pulled her to me, easing her bare feet to the ground.  With my chest bare and her delicious body thinly covered by scraps of silk, she felt as good as naked against me.  Too bad I didn’t have time for high-flying wild monkey sex just then.  The Knives were kicking Lauphram off the flatbed, onto the courtyard stones. 

He cursed them soundly until the leader of the Knives cuffed him across the face, saying, “We’ll let you know when we want your words, and then they had best come swiftly.  The queen is tired of waiting for you to come around.  She wants Poseidon’s Cup, or your still beating heart, freshly ripped from your chest.”

I stood there, feeling the world spin, feeling the fickle finger of Fate as the rat-bastard prodded me toward my destiny.  Clearly, I was not only here to save Lauphram and jumpstart the Red Lady, but to keep the Poseidon’s Cup away from the dark queen. 
I hate working for free.

I pulled Selene out of the tangle of the harnesses and guided her to the steps.  We followed the Knives into the temple.  The drain from using
Demon Wings
so long was making my legs tremble.  Suddenly, exhaustion boring down on me.  I feared the spell might collapse any second.  Taking a precaution, I slipped behind an internal pillar of square-cut stone, keeping Selene close.  The place had a charnel house smell I found sinister.  Blood, lots of it, had been spilled here, and from the smell, most of it had been human.

I let the Knives and Lauphram get to the front of the temple, before I dropped most of my spell.  I wasn’t sure if Selene realized others could see her if she was careless, so I warned her with a soft whisper in her ear.  “Spell’s gone.  They can see us.”  I still had access to the shadow magic reservoir, but it would be a while before I could bend people’s perceptions around me again.  That function of the tattoo needed to wait until I regenerated some of my depleted lifeforce.

Selene nodded her understand, then threw both hands up a little, along with her eyebrows. 

I took this to be a question:
What now?

I looked around my pillar.  The others were preoccupied with their own business.  I studied the layout of the building, particularly this row of pillars along the sidewall.  There was a lot of gloom with none of the hanging dishes of oil in the area lit.  If we stayed low, and used the pillars wherever possible, we could get a lot closer without giving ourselves away.  I explained as much with very light words, afraid of the acoustics snatching my words away and sending the further than I wanted.  I put a finger to my lips to indicate no more talking.  Selene’s nod was as emphatic as ever.  I think if I ordered her to lie down and spread her legs, there would be quick agreement as well—even if we were in full public display.  We seemed to be in that stage of our relationship where I could do no wrong, or my dick was just damn addictive.

We moved carefully, in fits and starts, moving from pillar to pillar.  Before long, it was easy to make out Lauphram and a woman who I took to be his bitch-queen.  She stood proud and regal in front of him in a gown the color of a moonless sea.  A crown weighed her brow.  Her hair flowed down her back in a long cascade.  On her forehead, she wore a sapphire.  I knew her from my world.  This was the bitch from the museum.  A notable change in her appearance however was that this version was very, very pregnant.  She was carrying Lauphram’s son, his first heir, Lauramus, the Hazmat Man himself. 

I felt seriously tempted to change the timeline, making sure my “brother’s” mom had a sudden miscarriage.  I had my PPK.  One precise squeeze of the trigger and…

No, can’t risk it.  I’m only here because of the L.A. invasion.  If time doesn’t play out as I remember, Selene might not become the Red Lady.  The night of the Red Moon might not happen.  Too many important things might never happen.  Worse, I could make it so I couldn’t go back, because I’d have caused a diversion in the time stream.  Or I could return to a future where I’d have to kill another me to find a place to exist.

Hmmmm.
  That thought proved so intriguing, I almost jumped out and snapped off a shot. 

Almost.  My inner dragon glared at me from inside my mind. 
I will do nothing to lose my mate.  The feel of her coils around mine. 
My dragon self shuddered in remembered bliss. 

Please, you’re embarrassing yourself.

Ignoring my dragon self’s immature ramblings, I listened to what was being said by my enemies. 

The dark queen had Lauphram
—still wearing the stupid yoke—slammed to the floor where he had to sit against an altar stained by recent sacrifices.  From the old blood on the altar, down its side, gumming up the surrounding floor, hundreds had perished relatively fast.  It was a crime the resident god couldn’t see.  His face had been hammered off, blinding him.  Behind the altar, on a five foot marble pedestal wide enough for an elephant was a marble statue, a merman balanced on his curled tail.  Fish from the waist down, man from the waist up, the figure wore a conch shell at his side that dangled from a rope.  He braced himself upright with a trident, and had seashells barnacled to his shoulders.  I knew who this had to be: the messenger of the sea, Triton, son of Poseidon and Amphitrite, god and goddess of the sea.  When blown like a trumpet, the conch shell could calm or raise the waves.

I doubted that the sacrifices made here were to anything other than some demon-god from a nameless hell-dimension.  Being here,
I felt the weight of Atlantis’ doom.  Her queen had disrespected Poseidon’s son.

I’d best not be here when payment comes due.

“Give me the Cup,” the dark queen demanded, and for your son’s sake, I will not kill you.

“Surrender,” Lauphram said, “and for his sake, I will spare you as well, though you will occupy a cell in your own dungeon for the rest of your unnatural life.”

Wow, Father sure knows how to close a deal, and he complains when I do that.

She laughed at him. 

I was embarrassed for the Old, uh, Young Man.  He was the one who’d taught me that threats are fun, but also a sign of weakness, proof that you are too powerless to act in the current moment.