Green Flame Assassin (Demon Lord series, book 2) Read Online Free Page B

diamond away in a spell-sealed lock box under the bar, without taking my eyes off the weapon.  It was a sword-breaker , a type of left-handed blade with extra hand protection, and prongs—paralleling the blade—that could catch and break an opponent’s rapier, if used just right.  The dagger was twenty-four inches tip to pommel.  The five-and-a-half-inch grip was wound with black leather.  The end knob was one and a half inches, the blade seventeen. 
“What does it do, besides stabbing people?” I asked.
“The sword-breaker is also a spell-breaker , provided it’s a low level spell, or curse.”
“That could come in handy,” I said.
Kimberley’s purple eyes were almost glowing as she stared through me, into some infinity only she could see.  She whispered, “In the end, it will.”
After a moment of silence, Achill said, “The day-walkers consider Sacramento to be their territory, keeping full vampires out.  Without a strong wolf leader to guide the shifter communities, the dhampyr will consolidate control.  They might even close the city to the rest of us as well.  As it is, I’ve not been able to contact any of the Sacramento wolves.”
“You could go there,” I suggested, “and take over until a new Alpha is chosen.”
Achill shook his head.  “If I go there, it will kick the whole mess into open warfare.”
I finished my drink and poured another.  “So, problem one is to find the Dream Stone.  Problem two is to make everyone play nice with each other.  Is that it, Old Man?”
Old Man took the Crown and Coke bottle on the bar and tried to pour some for himself and Achill.  Though the bottle was full, nothing poured out of it.  The bottle didn’t seem to like anyone’s hand but mine.
Achill noticed the difficulty and smiled, then turned his attention to me.  “You know what killed my Alpha?”
I nodded.  “Yeah, somehow a wereliger was made.  I’m looking into how.”  There are no hybrids among the wereclans.  What turns you dictates what type of werecritter you’ll become, provided you survive the attack.  Most don’t.  The virus that makes you a shifter is species specific, immunizing you from becoming any other type.  I’d already ruled out that this wereliger was a child of a lion and tiger shifter.   Shifters can’t have kids.  The regular transformations cause pregnant shifters to miscarry.  Always.
Achill said, “However he got here, if he’s not going to fill the power vacuum he made, we need to make sure he doesn’t kill the next Alpha I send in.”
“If the wolves are going to give me a lot of trouble,” I said, “It’ll cost extra.”
Old Man finished trying to coax liquor out of my bottle.  He set it down on the bar.
I picked it up and refilled my glass without difficulty.  The obsidian bottle remained full.  G reatest bottle ever!
Old Man walked Achill away from the bar, over to the living room furniture that formed an island by the fireplace.  Kimberly and her fey guard followed, leaving me behind.  I started around the bar as the others held a whispered consultation.  Old Man had raised me like a demon; he knew I’d drive a stiff bargain for all I could get.  Greed is our way of life whether it’s for money, women, alcohol, or power—we always want more.  Achill’s first offer would be lowball.  I was sure of it.  Probably just bling .  He’d been alive for a long time, so I knew he had a lot more to bargain with.  He’d probably seen entire civilizations rise and fall.  His eyes revealed a dark and ancient soul.
I came around the bar and approached the others.  “Come on, Old Man, what else did the courts cough up?”  He might have been my adopted father, but he was still a demon, holding out was second nature with him.
“They know you’re a dragon mage, so they’re willing to give you scale gauntlets as well, I, ah, would have mentioned that … eventually.”
“What else do you have?” I asked.
Achill spoke up, “And