Demon Lord 3: Blue Star Priestess (28 page)

“Fuck you and your whore of a mother.  She can’t swallow all my dick anyway.”

He stuck the needle through the cluster and hit the bone.  As he screwed the needle into the bone, I screamed.  Pain shot through my chest and down my whole body, like my skin was splitting open from the inside out. 

Golden lightning jagged along my skin, jazzing my own nerves, one kind of pain replacing another.  The charge jerked my body.  I regained control of my fingers.  I could move my damaged toes.  The immobilization spell of the glowing wall had weakened.   Tremors shook my legs.  The obsidian blade in my nut cut a little more. 

And I laughed once more.  “You poor pitiful inept piece of gutter filth.  Pain is more than my friend.  She’s been my companion since childhood.  I’m demon-raised.  You can’t touch the hell I was trained to swallow.  And just think, if you kill me and get nothing, your bitch queen will have you on this wall next.
  Who, I wonder will enjoy your screams?” 

I looked at Audumor and smiled.

He didn’t.  He gritted his teeth, clenched the remaining needles in a tight fist, and huffed for breath like he’d just run up a marathon with Hermes, the wing-footed messenger of the gods.  With an incredible effort, Audumor calmed himself—a little.  There was still wildness to his eyes.  They’d lost the near-white blaze and were now robin-egg blue with pronounced red veins, like he’d had a mini stroke.

He
rasped, “The queen will just have to understand that you require much more time.  Much more time.”

He touched left the needle in the bone of my arm, gripping it with steely fingers.  He pulled until I felt the pop of my shoulder coming out of socket. 

I cursed through gritted teeth, a sound like a growl, “Fuck!”

   He needled nerve cluster after cluster, but if he thought prolonged pain would break me, he was sadly deluded.  My longest tattoo had been seven hours.  Setting the spell had meant that
for all that time, I’d felt the same pain I’d pay using the tat in the future.  Now that’s torture.

“You are so stubborn you almost made me forget
; the deepest joy comes from a task well completed.”  He trembled from weariness whipping sweat from his brow.  “We shall resume tomorrow when you’ve had time to reflect on what may still be done to you.”

He had one needle left.  He shoved it spitefully through the head of my dick. 

I was back to showing no reaction, as if all the screams he’d gotten from me had been some game I was playing.  After the damage to my nerve centers, a stabbed dick only made me sad he’d hurt my little spelunker. 

He flipped the floating tablet and it sank back to the floor.  The wall I hung on scraped

Backwards to its original place.  After a wave and a forced smile, Audumor trudged off. 

I closed my eyes and listened to his
receding steps until a door opened and closed, and the sound was gone.  The silence wasn’t perfect. Out in the darkness, I heard breathing.  Someone shifted, jingling keys. 
A guard.  Just one?  This can’t be part of a regular jail.  They’d have more prisoners, more personnel.  Well, whatever, it makes things easier for me—once I get off his wall.  And patch myself up.  The bastard would go and leave the needles in.

I sighed.

Since this whole mess started, I’ve been Karma’s chew toy.  Well, that stops now.

TWENTY-
NINE

“I’ve had plans that worked better.”

                                       —Caine Deathwalker

My torturer had used demon magic more than a few times while playing with his needles.  He’d damaged me trying to inflict pain at a level meant to soften me up.  He’d failed and that was his last chance, though he didn’t know it yet. 

I took a deep breath and focused.  The spell circle on the floor had been designed to shut down the dragon-born, not demons.  I had one tattoo that wasn’t drawn in ink mixed with dragon blood.  This was leverage against the magic restraining my power.  The
Dragon Wings
tattoo had a second function besides the You-Don’t-See-Me spell.  It was a reservoir of shadow magic.  The Old Man had invested decades in teaching me this complex system of magic.  I needed decades still to achieve mastery, but I could do enough. 

I
dredged up the ragged flow of my lifeforce, spreading chi through damaged nerve clusters.  On my upper back, my
Demon Wings
tattoo warmed, feeling almost eager to be invoked.  That would have to wait.  Reacting from the flow of raw magic, the needle in my arm spun loose, unscrewing itself from bone.  The needle fell to the stone floor and bathed in my spilled blood.  Loud in the silence, the needle-fall echoed, provoking a startled gasp from the woman in the next cell.

I expected to pay a price in fresh pain to give emptiness form, and life to shadow. 

Something unexpected happened.  As I concentrated on emptiness, focusing my raw magic, my pain drained away—stolen by shadow magic as payment.  Shadow is emptiness.  Emptiness is hunger.  Hunger longs to be filled.  My shadow magic had found a new default, taking pain, not giving it.  I felt much better than a tortured man ought to.

If only I’d known earlier.

I yelled.  “Guard, guard!”  I waited but nothing.  “Guard, if you don’t stop the bleeding at my hip, I’ll bleed to death.  I think that bastard nicked my femoral artery.”  That wasn’t true, but the blood down my leg made the claim credible.  “Do you really want to tell Audumor you let me die?  You’ll be the next one on this wall.”

I heard irritated murmuring and steps.  A big, pale-blue demon showed himself in front of the bars.  I couldn’t see hair poking out from under his helm.  His eye color hovered between azure and gray.  The guard stood in the open door of my cell. 

Really, I know I’m chained to a wall, but the security here is lax as hell.  These demons are too arrogant for their own good.  Mistakes like this always cost you in the end.

The guard looked me over, noting the needles, the cuts, and the blood pool on the flagstones.  He came closer, loosely gripping a short, throwing spear in his right hand.  His left hand rested on the hilt of a sheathed short sword.  He shook his head sadly.  “You
are
a mess.  Bet those ripped toenails hurt.”  He reached over to my right knee and gave one of the needles a wiggle. 

I hissed.

“You want this out?  But it looks so good on you.”  His hand came away with the needle.  The needle was slick with my blood.  He made a show of slowly licking it clean.  “How about I go get some red hot irons and just burn your wounds shut?”

“How about I kill you instead?”
I unfurled the power from my
Demon Wings
tattoo.  In a new way, felt the flat wall behind me where dark wings of shadow magic fanned. 

The guard laughed at what he thought was a joke.  “Good one.”

The fanned shadow wings peeled off the brick and spiraled forward into twin spikes, stabbing his eyes, driving deeper into his brain.  He staggered back, screamed, and covered his eyes, but it was much too late.  And then he slumped, collapsing onto the bloody floor.  Dead.

“That’s for being a dumb fuck,” I said.

The shadow force wilted back onto my body, spreading over me like a second skin.  My toenails were pulled back into place.  The rest of the needles popped out and rained to the floor.  The obsidian knife fell from my balls. 

Oh
Gawd, what a relief.

The emptiness of my shadow power sank into the metal cuffs and chains, sipping some of the binding energy from the molecules.  The feeding damaged my restraints.  They fell away and clattered.  I dropped to my feet.  My bloody nuts were jarred
.  I held in a scream, cupped my nuts, and shut down the
Demon Wings
tattoo.  The shadow force on my skin sank into my body, awaiting the next awakening. 

I picked up two of the smaller needles, thinking there might be locked doors in my future I’d need to pick.

Tottering forward, I stepped across the corpse and went to the table by my cell door. I checked over my gear.  Everything had been handled.  The Kevlar vest had been pried open so its guts could be examined.  The clothing and holster rig for my PPKs looked fine, except the hoodie was gone.  Someone must have thought the design cool and too good for a prisoner. 

My muscles complained as I tore up my tee shirt and used strips to bandage various injuries.  The makeshift bandages wouldn’t hold for long, especially if I had to stay active, but I wasn’t healing as fast as I normally do, and had to b
uy time for regenerating.  I pulled on my pants, and sat to ease on my boots, glad not to be naked anymore. 

I took a small break before standing and taking possession of my
demon sword, strapping it on.  I checked the machine pistol.  The mechanism was damaged, useless, and the magazine was empty.  Some dick had figured out how to fire it and had used up the ammo.  I left the machine pistol where it was.

I hope
it was the guy with my hoodie, and I hope he shot himself in the foot.

I tried to go into the hall and hit a barrier.  The circle on the floor was keeping me in.  I warmed up my
Demon Wings
tattoo.  My breath was crushed out by the sensation of being twisted in half.  The pain left, my magic paid for.  Invisible to the spell circle, I left the cell and went over to the next cell. 

I know she heard me enter, but she kept her head down like I was a bad dream that needed to disappear. 
Her super-long, arterial-red hair spilled around her as she sat hunched on the floor, still hugging her knees.  The tits pressed to her legs had to be D-cups.  Her arms had good muscular definition though still slender.  That showed she wasn’t quite as broken as everyone thought.  She’d probably been using some kind of dynamic tension exercise to strengthen herself in private moments.  Her legs blocked my view of what had to be six-pack abs.

If only she didn’t smell of piss, she’d be quite fuckable.  In fact, if there’s a shower nearby…  No, damn it, first priority has to be escape.

I went back to the dead guard and laboriously removing his armor so I could detach the blue silk and make a few alterations for fit.  It smelled of sweaty demon, but beggars can’t be choosers.  What I had would work as a shift until something better came along. Leaving her would have been simpler, but outside of her spell circle, her full dragon power would return, unless she was too traumatized to access a part of her long suppressed. 

Besides, she was dragon-born, valuable.  Her people would owe me for saving her.  If I left her, intending to come back later, the
guards could move her.  Better to take her with me, but would she cooperate?

I drew my demon sword. 
Don’t get any ideas.  You’re not getting to eat the girl.

The sword said
,
You’re just no fun anymore.

Yeah, whatever.

I returned to the girl and stood waiting as my precious time bleed away.  Her mind and soul were fragile.  I couldn’t rush gaining her trust, or there’d be hell to pay later.  She lifted her head.  Her eyes matched her hair, shining red, but not because of magic.  They had texture and the imperfection that came with natural color, having a crystalline depth that pulled you into a crimson infinity. 

Realization punched me in the gut.  I knew her, or rather, knew what time would make of her.  She was a young woman, looking fresh to the adult world, but the “her” I knew from the future walked in terrible power, with unbreakable confidence.  She’d age a handful of years over the next few ages, to become a power in the cosmos, but here and now, she didn’t know me.

The Red Lady.

I held out the blue silk shift. 

Her eyes clung to mine, not even going to the sword I held.  She made no move to take the garment.

“I want you dressed.”

She held up her wrist cuffs to show the impossibility of that.

“Move your feet apart and hold still,” I ordered.

Her face remained scrubbed free of hope, but she did as I asked. 

An
ime aside, an ordinary katana doesn’t slice through a tank, but a demon sword is another story.  I moved in a blur. Her chains dropped away.  I draped the shift over her knees, eased myself lower, and used the two needles to pick open the wrist and ankle cuffs.   I could have just used them to free her, without a flash of power using the sword, but I wanted to show her she could trust my control.

S
he stood six inches shorter than me.  Her body looked amazing.  She put on the shift and shook her hair out behind her.  The red cascade stopped at the back of her knees.  She ripped a little cloth off the hem and used the silk to tie her hair back from her face.

“You can stay here, or come with me.”  I lied.  She was definitely coming.

Her voice a timid whisper, she said, “I will come, Gold One.”

“What’s your name, Red?  And how haven’t they raped you dead by now?”

“I am Selene, and I am magic.”  She opened her mouth to show me even, white teeth, except for two fangs that were blood red.  The fangs indicated how much power a dragon held.  She said, “The demons kept me untouched so they wouldn’t taint the power their queen wants to steal.”  Her voice got rougher with each word.  I wondered how long it had been since she’d been fed and watered.  I didn’t even see a bucket for her to piss in.  That last omission was deliberate, using humiliation to grind down her spirit.

I walked Selene to the edge of her the spell circle.  The open door—freedom—was a step away for her.  “Close your eyes,” I said.  She did.  I settled an arm over her shoulders, extending the power of my demon magic to her, pulling her into my spell.  I moved forward, dragging her along.  Outside the cell, I released her.

She opened her eyes, staring around.  “I never believed this would happen.”

“Yeah, sometimes I can’t even believe myself.”

I walked off as if to leave her there.

After a start
led moment, she padded swiftly after me.  Catching up, she matched steps and clutched my arm.

“So others can’t see you, you must keep hold me.  Otherwise, my magic can’t protect you.”

Selene looked at her hands on my arm.  “I understand.  You are going to save me, then?” 

I thought of Selene in the future, the Red Lady.  “
Some would say I already have.”

We came to a door.  I tried it.  Locked.  I picked the lock and opened the door, peering into a stairwell.  I heard no one using the stairs above.  “Come on.”  I pulled her in and we started up.  As the stairs went on and on, Selene struggler more and more.  Soon, I was half supporting her.  We reached the top landing and another door.  I tested the latched.  It was locked as well.  Once more the needles were put into service.   I put the needles away and eased the door open.  To my surprise I didn’t see any guards on the other side.
  I was being careful because, while they couldn’t see me, they could certainly see a door open by itself.  We stepped out and closed the door behind us. 

“Which way do we go?” she asked. 

The hall floor was fine marble.  The walls were mosaics, abstract waves of white and purple mixed with a dozen shades of blue.  There weren’t many doors either way.  We had no guide, until I smelled roasted fish and fruit.  The scent wafting along the hall from the left.  I followed the smell.  “This way.”

Selene pressed into my side, her hand skimming across my
Demon Wings
tattoo. Her breath warmed my shoulder.  Her other hand had settled on my abs.  Moving this was a little difficult, but I really didn’t mind her growing dependence on me.  Her tits squishing into me was just an added bonus.

We followed the food smell until we came across two servant girls caring trays of food and wine.  We stayed close but not too close.  They passed several doors, having an obvious destination in mind.

Footsteps caught up to us from behind.  I heard the clinking of armor as someone moved in bursts, stopping every few seconds.  I looked back and saw a guard come around a bend in the hall.  He stopped to stare at dark spots on the floor tiles. 

Shit!  I’m leaving behind a trail of blood.

The girls went into a door up ahead.