Moon Burn (The Half-Demon Rogue Trilogy Book 3) Page 8

  Especially if Marrack ran the show. It beggared belief that the Demon King would show mercy to those who had worked with the Sol Council.

  I used the SUV’s cigarette lighter to burn Javier’s journal into ash. Nothing else useful had reared its head within, and I didn’t want to carry the thing around. The tabby cat hissed in the back seat from the smoke, but he didn’t get a vote.

  The journey back to Inonda was leisurely, if boring. I pulled off at a rest stop and took a nap, delaying my return until around three in the afternoon. As I pulled into Lux’s parking lot, the phone rang—and not my normal one.

  With intense distaste, I looked at the blocked number. Every fiber of my being screamed to hurl the burner through the window. But I didn’t have the luxury of throwing tantrums, so I answered in as calm a voice as I could muster.

  “Not wasting much time, are we Redmond?”

  “Opportunity waits for no man.”

  “Great quote. Really inspired over here.”

  “Need I remind you about Ms. Santos?”

  I wanted to answer you’ll kill her anyway. You’ll kill us all if the Order ends up running the show. But that would be moronic. So I said instead, “I’m listening.”

  “Very good, then. There is a deplorable shantytown that has overtaken part of this cesspool.”

  By cesspool, I assumed he meant Inonda. “From the Haelstrom.”

  “That vile drug.” He sounded particularly disgusted. “Within the center of those awful ruins exists a base of operations. Of sorts.”

  “Is Marrack there?”

  “No.”

  “Then why the hell do we care?”

  “Because it is there you will find the nest responsible for spawning these abominations walking in the light.”

  “You mean the daystriders?”

  “Filth.” I think I might’ve heard him spit. Could’ve just been the phone, though. The Order hadn’t seen fit to shell out the big bucks for something modern. A disposable device for their disposable soldier. “You will eliminate their presence immediately. Their havoc is unacceptable.”

  “Is it, now?”

  “We care about the humans of this world, Mr. Aeon. Don’t forget that.”

  “And where will I meet you for this lovely expedition?”

  “Consider this a way of proving your value to us.”

  “Sounds more like a temporary stay of execution.”

  “Call it what you will, demon. Just do as we ask.”

  The call ended with an abrupt click.

  Well, finding the daystriders’ lair under threat of death wasn’t optimal. But if I waited for perfection, the world would turn into a blackened husk. Beggars, choosers and all the old clichés applied.

  Following Redmond’s lead would tick two key boxes: it would grant me some breathing room, and ensure Inonda wasn’t overrun by moon-burned vamps. Small wins in the context of a massive shitstorm, but sizable victories any other day of the week.

  I just needed one thing.

  A partner I could trust.

  And as I stepped out of the SUV, I knew just the right person to ask.

  The kind who would have no damn choice but to say yes.

  15

  You might think that person would be Ruby Callaway. She owed me, right? It’d be easy to think so, after taking me to the middle of the desert and promptly disappearing when the situation hit critical. But no, trust was the product of two things.

  A long time in the trenches.

  Or necessity. The metaphorical gun to one’s head.

  Ruby satisfied neither criterion. Argos was relatively useless in the field, and Gunnar would be asleep for at least the next three hours. And waiting until nightfall to battle moon-burned vamps didn’t just border on suicide. I might as well have put the .45 in my mouth right now and saved myself a trip to the other side of town.

  All these variables led me to an unlikely candidate. One who was right on the way.

  I knocked twice, paint chips flicking off the thin door. This had never been a nice neighborhood, but the Haelstrom debacle had made it even more fringe than before. I was on the outskirts of the Wild West, where no one in their right mind would go.

  Not if they had a choice in the matter.

  I knocked again. “Open the damn door, Kitsune.”

  “Perhaps it is still open,” a muffled voice said. Sure enough, I tried the scratched brass knob and it gave way.

  I stepped out of the apartment’s hallway and shook my head. “That doesn’t seem very safe.”

  The naked woman stretched her long legs and let out a fox-like purr. “Kalos.” She made no effort to rise from the couch. Despite the apartment’s questionable neighborhood, the interior was blanketed in valuables.

  “I see you’ve been busy.”

  “One works diligently to get their mind off things.”

  While I would never mistake Kitsune’s silver tongue for dilgence, the collection was impressive.

  Presumably, the thing in particular she was referencing was the tracking chip beneath her skin. The one I had the password to. She’d been caught scrounging for garbage by my nemesis Detective Scott, then tried to manipulate me into handing over the digital key to the device.

  I’d considered it, since she was such a lying, untrustworthy pain in the ass.

  But four months ago, I’d denied that request. Kept her around for a rainy day. I guess, technically, she could have left. But it wouldn’t have been much use, since I could pull up her location on any cell phone in existence. Kind of made running pointless.

  Good thing, too. Because man, was it ever pouring now.

  I walked over to a side table and picked up a golden tortoise. Its weight indicated the little statue was the real deal. “A bit much, don’t you think?”

  “Boredom is a terrible disease.” She rose, looking down her sharp nose at me. I’m sure she’d acquired more than a few of these treasures with that figure. But it didn’t stir even the faintest longing within me.

  You get burned enough, you start seeing through the exterior, right to the blackened core.

  Her trim black hair bobbed as she slipped into a pair of tights. The scar snaking around her abdomen, all the way to the tip of her spine, flexed like a winding snake.

  That made for two reasons I could trust her. I had her over a barrel. And she hated Isabella as much as I did. Because the witch was responsible for that.

  We couldn’t go after Isabella just yet, but hurting the Conclave’s operation by proxy would have to suffice.

  “I have your ticket out of Texas.”

  I briefly explained the mission. Just the highlights, to cater to her ephemeral attention span.

  “I’m starting to enjoy it here.” She spread her arms around the apartment. Yes, the ancient katakana scrolls—purloined from an unsuspecting collector—were nice. But they were nothing she couldn’t replace with a few sweet nothings whispered in the right rich guy’s ear.

  “You understand what I’m offering, right?”

  She turned to look at me with a lazy stare. Her chest remained bare. Shifters have no sense of shame when it came to that sort of thing. Just didn’t matter, like a dog going outside without a coat. Wasn’t in their DNA.

  But time and practice can produce changes that would shock DNA. Because I looked her dead in the eye. Demons weren’t known for restraint when it came to sinful behavior.

  “Get a fucking shirt on and let’s go,” I said.

  “That’s not very gentlemanly.”

  “You must’ve mistaken me for your boyfriend.” I stomped past her, into the bedroom. Knowing little about clothes, I could still tell that the silk gowns and designer wear in her closet had cost a fortune. I grabbed some sort of tent-like blouse and chucked it at her. “This looks fine.”

  “It�
��s out of season.”

  “Great,” I said. “You can hop a plane to someplace in season after you’re done helping me.”

  A whine bubbled in her throat. She made an effort to mute it, but I heard the shrill noise just fine. Nature, man. “I would prefer to stay.”

  “Then stay and be out of season. I don’t really give a fuck, as long as we torch that nest—”

  “No.” Her eyes lit up with primal fear. Even for an immortal, raiding the nest was a dangerous gig. Apparently she thought it was more hazardous than defying me.

  “The longer we wait, the more power they gain.”

  “You’re insane, Kalos.” She held the blouse like it was radioactive, refusing to put it on.

  I dug the .45 out of my waistband and crossed my arms over my stomach, allowing the pistol to casually point toward the floor. “Well if that’s the case, then you shouldn’t really say no, right?”

  “Allow me to get another shirt.”

  “Of course.” I watched as she slipped into the bedroom and closed the door. The modesty set off all types of alarms, but I was strangely detached about the whole matter. Angry, yes, but in a weirdly inhuman way.

  Escape attempts. Typical.

  Squeezing out the apartment door so as not to make a sound, I hurriedly rushed down the three flights of stairs. The mild winter air greeted me as I rushed into the decrepit street. An alleyway grabbed my eye about four houses down. I darted down the narrow path, leaping over wisps of trash and rats.

  Emerging in the back, I saw Kitsune gracefully shimmying down the drainage pipe. She was about twelve feet off the ground. Aiming the .45 a few feet above her head, I pulled the trigger. The bullet glanced harmlessly off the metal, but it caused her to release her grip on the pipe.

  I heard a clipped howl—more animal-like than human—as she crashed to the pavement. Upon vaulting the dilapidated wooden fence, I found a small, red fox limping toward a nearby hole in the corner.

  Grabbing her by the tail, I swung the fox in front of my face and shook my head. The sharp nose and trickster eyes remained the same. “I really don’t have time for this.”

  Kitsune bared her little teeth and took a swipe at me. Tempted to hurl the fox against the faded brick, I instead pinched her tail a little harder. There was a sharp yelp, followed by a conciliatory flattening of the ears.

  “I’m not going to miss next time.”

  The red fox nodded, and I put her down. I watched as the fur disappeared, human skin stretching and growing out of the smaller form. A naked Kitsune glared at me from the concrete, a hiss rumbling in her throat.

  “See, if you hadn’t fucked me over already, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “I bet.”

  “I wonder, Kalos,” she said, pushing through the creaky wooden fence, “how bad things must truly be if I’m the one you turn to.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Just do your job.”

  “Maybe you should take your own advice before giving it to others.”

  The fence almost caught me in the face as I considered the truth in her words.

  Yup—things were pretty bad. And I had a feeling that trend wasn’t going to reverse itself in the near future. But I had to try.

  Because, sometimes, when all the heroes were gone, you just had to make do with the personnel on hand.

  16

  Fully clothed and now on the same page, Kitsune walked beside me in terse silence. That suited me just fine; less opportunity for her to spew bullshit.

  The shantytown had changed since I’d visited four months before. Not that I’d taken an extended tour then, but the ambiance was far different. For one thing, it was practically abandoned. Cold, charred barrels were tipped over along the sidewalk. Empty glass vials of Haelstrom crunched underfoot, like a perpetually present sheet of ice.

  Most of the buildings were missing shutters and windows. It was a good thing I’d dropped the SUV—and essence jug—off at Gunnar’s, because the road was nigh impassable. The cat was doubly luckily I’d left him at Lux: this looked like the type of place where a hungry vagrant would consider eating another man’s pet. Entire sections of asphalt were simply missing, exposing ruined piping and frayed wiring to the elements. One wouldn’t be faulted for thinking that a series of missiles had shelled this section of Inonda.

  But I knew better. The Haelstrom had been the knockout punch, and the daystrider nest had been the six feet of dirt on top of the barely breathing corpse. Even junkies didn’t want to stick around a bunch of unhinged vamps.

  The burner phone rang.

  “I have not received an update on this matter,” Dylan Redmond said.

  “Not even gonna say hello?”

  “It is four o’clock, Mr. Aeon. Need I remind you what happens after sunset?”

  “Your glass slipper disappears?”

  “I am glad you are so jovial. There are those here who do not share your overconfidence.”

  “Just tell me the address.”

  He explained the location. From my vague understanding of the area, I realized it was less than three blocks away. Lucky me.

  Redmond signed off with, “Here is a little motivation for you.”

  A scream punctuated the background, followed by cursing—a mixture of English and Spanish. Everything Nadia had in her arsenal. Then the line went dead.

  Gripping the phone tightly, I walked in silence, head down.

  “A plan would be helpful, Kalos,” Kitsune said.

  “A plan?” With my thoughts elsewhere, planning seemed like a foreign concept. Then again, planning always seemed like a foreign concept to me.

  “Or would you have us walk up to the lion and climb inside its jaws?” I think she was about to say something else, but the words were swallowed by a low growl.

  Kitsune crashed against my shoulder just before the bullets started flying. We tumbled through the half-broken door of an old electronics store, glass raking my skin as the empty street erupted into action.

  “Spotters,” I said, crawling along the floor. The dingy, dust-strewn displays advertised operating systems and processors over twenty years out of date. Sun-yellowed demo boxes were piled up on the counter, many of them ripped open.

  I stumbled to my feet and hurtled myself through the small mountain of glossy cardboard. Kitsune followed, landing on top of me.

  “I do not believe whoever hired you for this job is a friend,” she said, hurling the boxes over her shoulder. “A gun, if you would.”

  “I only brought one.” I pulled the .45 out and peeked over the counter. No boots on the ground—the bullets had come from up high. Men stationed in the bombed-out windows. Probably locals who needed a fix, were willing to do a little dirty work for the vamps. A daystrider wouldn’t bother announcing his presence with automatic weapons fire.

  He’d just try to rip your throat out.

  I dropped back down and assessed our current location. The area behind the counter led into a small office filled with old, piss-yellow CRT monitors. Computer components, loose and boxed, were spread across steel shelves.

  More importantly, the office passed straight through to a hallway. Hopefully somewhere more promising.

  Maintaining a low profile, I hurried through the office. I couldn’t hear Kitsune’s silent footsteps, but I knew she was following—unless she’d acquired a sudden death wish. Passing the bathroom, I heard voices echo out in the desolate streets.

  The hallway turned sharply, and I prepared for the worst. But a burned-out orange EXIT sign dangling above a rusted door indicated that we wouldn’t be retired into obsolescence just yet.

  Out in the back—somewhere in size between an alley and a full-fledged street—I realized just how dusty the computer shop had been. Somehow, the apocalyptic wasteland seemed fresher than t
he area we’d just waded through.

  I glanced back at Kitsune, whose black hair was dusted with a heavy layer of gray. The voices, muted by the buildings, continued. With the grace of a nimble animal, she shook out her shoulders. The dust fell from her body like snow as she walked ahead of me.

  “And where are you headed?”

  “I can sense the nest. Its…unnaturalness. Its ugliness.”

  “So you’re just going to walk right up to them?”

  “Since the demon cannot form a plan, I will form one for him.”

  My mind didn’t move fast enough to register what was happening. One minute, Kitsune was only a few paces ahead. The next, she was sprinting, her long strides eating up the jumbled real estate at a ferocious pace.

  She was almost around the corner before I snapped out of my daze to chase after her. But although faster than most, I was no match for a natural-born shifting fox, even in its human form. By the time I cut the corner, it was too late.

  Kitsune was gone. And with the clock ticking toward four-thirty, there was no time to call in an alternate.

  Senses on full alert, I raised the .45 and walked down the abandoned street, swiveling the gun around trash cans and tire-stripped cars. Nothing moved except the flutter of litter, urban tumbleweeds whispering about the bad things to come.

  As I walked alone, the distant voices screaming and bashing around the computer shop, a tingling dread washed over me. It was not an aura, nor anything supernatural, but the eeriness of witnessing a place swallowed by decay—and the horror of knowing that this was not its final fate. No, this section of town would spiral further into despair. That it could do so made me cognizant, ever so briefly, of my own situation.

  However rash I was now acting, these were not the depths.

  My heart slammed against its rib cage prison as I turned up another crumbling street. The faded green street sign had been spray-painted over, but I could make out enough of the letters to know that this was the nest’s location.

  After a few boarded-up row homes, I came upon the structure.