Garnet Tongue Goddess by Morgan Blayde

Author:Morgan Blayde
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Horror, Genre Fiction, Dark Fantasy, Literature & Fiction
Published: 2016-05-29T04:00:00+00:00

1

TWENTY-ONE

“I hate it when Death gets tricky.”

—Caine Deathwalker

In the pool, old snake-face convulsed, shaking off reptilian features, shifting back into mammalian form. Miniature arms separated from his sides, limbs like shriveled, dehydrated tree branches. Fragile fingers clawed at the edge of the pool. His scales melted away and dark-brown human flesh glistened. Pained sounds erupted from him as internal organs moved around, reshaping, spasming through cellular changes. He struggled, forcing recovery at an accelerated pace, no doubted aided by the sacred waters. I wondered which Hindu god or goddess had pissed here.

His eyes reflected agony, but hatred, too. I could tell he was doing his best to get a human voice so he could warn the others I was present in their midst.

The only thing I could figure that had given me away was a residue of his poison magic I might have carried out of the dream we’d shared. In that case, it wasn’t the cloaked “me” he sensed, but his own energy signature within me.

Before he could betray me, I summoned a PX4 Storm semi-automatic from the ether and fired two shots. His human head exploded clean off, fragments spraying back like chum to cloud the water. My cloaking spell prevented the sound of my shots or the muzzle flashes from betraying me, but it was pretty obvious something unnatural had struck down the wounded naga—whose name I still didn’t know.

Really, bad guys should be required to wear nametags.

The newcomer in the room looked around, the emerald in his turban catching the light of lanterns hanging from the ceiling. He had to guess an assassin was present, but didn’t seem very alarmed. “You can show yourself,” he said. “I never liked that guy anyway.”

That wasn’t true of the nagi woman by the pool who dropped to her knees, one hand cupping her lower face, her eyes wide with horror. A muffled sob escaped her as she stared into the pool.

“Nakisisa!” She screamed his name.

It sounded African, probably had a cool meaning like: little meerkat born on Wednesday. Maybe there’d be a translation in his obituary. I can always Google it.

The other attendants rushed to the crying woman, drew her to her feet, and guided her swiftly out a side door. That left me alone with Turban Guy. Normally, I’d be running off by now, low profile and all that, but that honkin’ big emerald he wore sure would look so good in my treasure vault.

My inner dragon stared, as captivated as I was. Pretty. Shiny.

I saw it first, I reminded him.

“It looks like you’ve killed my guest,” Turban Guy said. “Not that I really care. He may have been African royalty, but he wasn’t near good enough for my sister.”

I shut down the Demon Wings tattoo on my back.

Turban Guy turned to me as I suddenly popped into his view. He inclined his head and smiled. The emerald flashed. “Welcome to my home. I am Arnav, Voice of my People.”

“Caine Deathwalker, the Red Moon Demon, Heir to the Dragon throne, and a Lord of Under the Hill.

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