Shadowed Vengeance: The Third Arcane Court Novel: Arcane Court, #3

By Graylin Fox

As a Dragon Lord of the Arcane Court, it's my job to hunt down demons who toy with or kill humans. My bonus is the magic I absorb sucking down their putrid squirming souls. The new local demon lord, Kragen, is the oldest living drug dealer and we blew up his primary warehouse in Vegas last year. I'm sure he's planning ways to pick my scales off one by one.

In the meantime, his most dangerous henchman captured human women, chained them to a wall, and captured a fellow dragon. I know it's a setup, I don't care. No one hurts humans in my town.

If my demon powers keep me alive long enough to survive the trap.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dark Fantasy Press
• Release date: Oct 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781625177490

Graylin Fox

Graylin Fox is an Urban Fantasy author of Contessa: Princess of the Summer Fae, the Arcane Court Series (Death Dealer, Red Lady, Shadowed Vengeance, Demon Child), and the paranormal romance Candy Man Delivery Series which she writes as Graylin Rane. Graylin is also a psychologist, and used this knowledge when writing Smolder, a novel about a hospital psychologist, and Your Biggest Fan, about a woman obsessed with a boy band member. She still practices psychology in South Florida, unwinding with her friends at the beach.  Keep up with Graylin online at GraylinFox.com, on Facebook [GraylinFoxWrites], and on Twitter [@GraylinFox].

Book preview

Arcane Court Series

Death Dealer

Red Lady

Demon Child (Novella)

Shadowed Vengeance

Fanged Deception (coming 2016)

Copyright

Shadowed Vengeance:

An Arcane Court Novel

Copyright 2015 by Dark Fantasy Press

ISBN: 9781625177490

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Dark Fantasy Press

Chapter One

Halloween season in New Orleans—my favorite time of year, after Mardi Gras. I walked the darkened streets in full dragon form, damn near seven-foot tall with matte black wings wrapped around me like a cloak. Fire-orange dragon eyes helped me scan the crowds.

Humid air pasted tourists’ clothing to their wobbly forms. Retching sounds escaped shadows, while friends stood nearby fighting the urge to gag from the smell. My heightened dragon senses long used to the stench kept my own meals from rising in response.

Hey there. I like my men dark and brooding. A lusty tourist pointed her artificially inflated breasts at me. We could go back to my hotel room. I'll let you make me scream.

Before I could turn her down, another woman—dark compared to the first one’s lightness—wrapped a strong arm around the lovely pale vision’s waist, pulling her away with an apologetic expression in her dark, almond-shaped eyes. Returning her smile, I nodded, continuing my visual scan of Bourbon Street, its balconies and doorways bulging with life. Sober, those two would be a penthouse letter. I preferred my women in full control.

The paranormal population in town addressed me as Dragon Lord of the Arcane Court. I enforced the laws, protecting humans from shifters, demons, and any other creature who crawled out of the swamp. When it came to protecting humans from themselves, I had to back away. The possible exposure of our existence during a fight wasn’t worth the risk. The last couple of years brought more danger than the previous century. I now patrolled every night.

Evening. I bowed to a local magic practitioner. one of the few humans with a real talent.

She ran a magic supply store that smelled divine full of incense, candles, and tarot cards. The door opened onto an alleyway too dark for tourist curiosity.

Cimmerian. Her long tousled brown hair challenged the bandana wrapped around her head. Sparkling eyes the color of milk chocolate danced over me. I’ll figure out what you are one day.

Yes, Elizabeth. I’m sure you will. I’d often considered showing her my dragon form. I fought the urge due to the constant impending danger surrounding my cohorts and myself. But, Elizabeth tempted me.

It was my town, and if a demon threatened the humans within its limits, I’d hunt it down and remove its head. Then drink the putrid demon soul, absorbing its magic. I was the Death Dealer.

Flexing my claws, I tried to relax. This night felt dark. Werewolves and shifters nodded with eyes down as I passed. The recent absorption of magic had added demon spikes to my spine and along my wings. The change subtle and unmistakable, telling all creatures that I’d become more powerful. They didn’t know I had no idea how to use magic.

The past year and a half had been hell on all of us. With brief periods of quiet, demons had filtered into town under cover of the new Demon Lord Kragen’s authority and flagrantly disobeyed Court law. I’d put away fifty in the past two months, filling my demon magic stores for the next battle.

I resided, once again, on the third floor of my paranormal club across the street from the French Quarter Market. During my brief residency at a mansion inherited from a Demon Lord, I’d missed the noise and the river. Here, I heard the crowds downstairs, smelled the food Grace made daily, and had ready access to the warehouse across the street.

A gaggle of sexy human women stumbled past me. I turned to make sure they got safely into a cab and spotted a demon leaning against the building behind me. I heard him, his form shadowed.

Drake Kane’s smile revealed yellowed fangs. He wore sunglasses, even though it was close to midnight. His average height blended in with humanity. Dying his brown hair black and wearing dark leather gave him an air of danger. The leather gloves hid his fingerprints from the local authorities. He shouldn't show up on any database, but with a few centuries of crimes to his name, he couldn't take the chance. Danger flowed around him like a cloak, waiting to assist.

I lowered my voice, a clear threat. I see evil followed them from the club.

He lowered his glasses revealing goat-slitted eyes. They wanted to play.

And wake up tomorrow.

I could manage that, he said.

When I took a step toward him, he flinched. My wavy black hair fell around my face as I leaned over him. How many have you killed in the past year?

He’d moved to town after his mentor, Kragen, a drug-dealing demon, managed to finagle the local Demon Lord position and a seat on the Arcane Court, my employers. I'd checked with the other members of the Court; I didn't have to worry about Kragen. It was the typical response from a group wanting me to clean up a problem they couldn’t eliminate without severe repercussions. My friends and I had a strong reputation for taking down elder demons their own kind wouldn't kill.

I believe you report to me now, Death Dealer. Acidic tones in his voice irritated me.

I smiled, leaning closer so I towered over him. With one swat of my claws, I could remove his head. You sound tough but I smell the urine running down your leg. Are you up for it?

I unhooked my wings from under my neck, spreading them just far enough that someone across the street would think they were a cloak.

The move revealed my dark purple scales reflecting the lights from the nearby bar. I reached one clawed hand toward him, palm up. Six-inch claws should work, don’t you think?

One of the most dangerous demons in town tried to fight his fear. Drake Kane had earned his reputation through centuries of torture. He’d pin demons and shifters to a cave wall, rip their limbs off, wait for them to shift to recover, and do it again. It would take weeks for his victims to die. It had rocketed him to the top of Kragen’s enforcer list.

He tilted his head at me, shifting into his demon form. He’d jokingly taken the shape of a red demon with horns, wings, and hooves. I laughed.

A figure moved behind him.

Do you have a new victim, Drake?

The drunkest goes to the victor. He made a sweeping gesture, moving aside.

A young girl stood there, naked, blood running down her body from dozens of cuts, handcuff marks on her wrists. Sour sweat and urine smells wafted to me on the small breeze. It didn’t add to the normal vomit and beer smell of the Quarter. Obviously dazed and hopefully too drunk and frightened to remember this, she put her hand out toward me.

My claws wrapped around his neck, lifting him off the ground. You broke the rules, Drake. I get to take your soul.

The woman stumbled a few feet away into a lighted area, gaining the attention of horny human men looking for fun.

Kill me or save her, dragon. You choose. His eyes lighting up with the offered challenge.

It wasn’t a choice. He knew it.

I slammed him into the concrete wall, wiping the smirk from his face. It doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you. Crawl back into your hole.

Hey, baby. You know you want a piece of this. One of the human men dropped his pants to his ankles.

He landed on his face.

Oh my god, she’s bleeding, another said, staring at me.

Wrapping my wings back around my shoulders, I picked her up.

I’ll get her to the hospital. Could you guys catch that man in black leather? I nodded toward Drake’s retreating form. He’s the one who messed her up.

Sending four drunk men after Drake wasn’t the wisest decision. He’d easily outrun them but it would keep him busy long enough for me to get her to safety. They’d be safe. He only killed women, which made me hate him more than most.

Turning into an alley, I spread my wings taking off with her in my arms. Flying over the city could draw gunfire. I stayed over buildings, away from crowds. The trip to the coroner’s office took me minutes. She didn’t struggle. Her breathing slowed against my neck, consciousness slipping from her.

Landing on the top of the parking deck, I kept to the shadows. The coroner’s office was attached to the police station. We had a new police chief. He’d been on the job for over a year and the local werewolf alpha just got him to cooperate with the pack.

My crew would take longer to trust, I had a half-demon, half-dragon whose family caused chaos for the joy of it.

Morden stepped out the back door, looking up as I jumped to the ground. He’d started three months ago. A cousin of my werewolf bodyguard Greg, he had the same impressive build, blond hair, blue eyed Scandinavian look.

Another? He rushed to my side.

Drake, I spat out the name.

Fucker, he said.

Yeah, she’s in shock. Losing a lot of blood.

I followed him inside, laying her on an exam table he kept in a back room. The coroner’s office had a unique setup allowing him to create a full medical office for the paranormal community.

I’ll take care of her, he said, looking her over. Clothing?

I stared at him. He'd seen enough bodies in the last three months to make that a really stupid question.

Demon attack, right. I’ll get a rape kit. It came out in a growl. This is the third one this week. He’s hunting, Cim. You guys have to stop him.

Fuming, I nodded. I’m headed to the club now. We’ll get on it.

He nodded, too, shooing me out of the door.

I shifted into my human form. Dark black wavy hair brushed my shoulders; green eyes replaced the fire-orange red color. In this form, I shrunk to six-and-a-half foot tall, clothed in jeans and a thin, navy short-sleeved sweater.

Walking back to my club, I garnered attention from people driving past. I ignored them, my sexual desires sated thanks to a group of extra curvy tourists. Damn, I loved passionate human women, preferring curvy women so I could watch their flesh jiggle around. Besides, curves felt better than bones in my hands. I’d need a cold shower when I got home.

The club—we'd never named it—sat at the corner of French Market Place and Barracks Street. The gray building contained the club on the first floor, with a kitchen on the back, and an open-air courtyard in the center. The second floor had my office on the front, with Wretch's situated behind the windowed courtyard opening, and my apartment on the top floor.

A garden surrounded the courtyard's opening on the roof where Grace, the jaguar shifter who ran the place for us, grew fresh herbs for teas and coffee drinks. The building ran an entire block, allowing a small space on Decatur Street for me to put in a garage. My convertible wasn't needed often, but I loved it.

I entered through the front door, greeted with the smells of coffee and wood polish. Grace waved a cloth at me as she cleaned the tables. Hardwood floors gleamed in window light. Leather-upholstered semicircular booths cradled dark wood tables topped with shining glass along the front and sidewalls. Tall chairs tucked under the outer curves, leaving a six-foot walkway in front of the thirty-foot bar free for gathering.

Business was slow, with only a few patrons scattered around, most staring at their phones and not noticing my entrance.

Boss, George, the gorilla shifter who worked for me, said as I leaned on the bar. His raised eyebrow asked what his words didn't.

Kane.

He grunted, nimbly moving his large frame to help a customer.

I glanced around. The windows were framed with mahogany, matching the dark wood of the floors and bar, each accented with gold framing, the interior design picked by Wretch so the bar matched the ostentatious look of his centuries’ old home. Each table sat beneath a small gold chandelier hanging from a raised section ornately decorated with gold paint and trim.

The largest chandelier hung over the bar. Over seven yards long with four feet of maneuvering space, its back wall supported shelves for three hundred kinds of liquor. Some bottles, well hidden, Wretch and I brought from Europe two hundred years ago. We'd secured them with demon magic. No one would walk out of here with our best stuff.

One corner remained dark, the window bricked off. Demons appeared and vanished in privacy there. It had been concession for Wretch to begin with, now helping his mother and a few others.

I made myself a cup of coffee, ignoring Grace's displeased look.

You don't do that right, she said.

I've made coffee before, I replied a little too harshly. Sorry, bad night.

Another girl?

Yeah, I growled.

I watched my friends pretend they weren’t on alert.

Wretch, six-foot-tall with long brown hair brushing his collar, flashed a smile which didn’t reach his hazel eyes. Trouble.

Nodding, I yawned. Nothing we need to do tonight. The girl I rescued is with Morden.

Go to bed, boss. We got this, George said, nudging me.

His hair was black with some gray in it, cropped close to his head. His eyes were dark brown, almost black. He stood around six feet tall with a football linebacker build. He was hairy, his forearms and hands covered in tufts of black hair. He ran a hand over the sparse salt and pepper beard trying to grow on his face.

Feeling exhaustion's tendrils wind through my body, I nodded, taking my coffee to my room. I filled them in on the events as the club opened the following afternoon. I’m not a morning dragon.

The club opened for lunch and dinner, closing for two to three hours between so we could clean up. At least, that was the story we told customers. It usually meant we were in our second floor offices going over security footage from the night before, checking with contacts, and sorting emails with leads on our enemies. We’d made many in the four hundred years Wretch and I’d been friends, mostly his aforementioned relatives.  

Wretch walked behind the bar, fixing a drink.

I’m fine. The set of his jaw defied the words he gritted between his teeth. Focus on Drake.

The only born demon-dragon hybrid wouldn’t talk about the loss of his human girlfriend. He’d spent the past year screwing every tourist turned on by his perfect body covering the demon shape he hid from everyone, including me.

He’d dressed in what I referred to as his demon dandy outfit—tan linen pants, ironed with creases, a flimsy white buttoned-down shirt opened to expose his chiseled chest and abs, and a gold chain dangling a shark’s tooth.

The tooth was a new addition; he’d flown to the Bahamas this past summer to swim with the sharks.

I’d gone for fun. Demons can’t swim, the muscle and bones structure required to shift into endless shapes being too dense. I’d had to haul him up but he was the only one on the dive who frightened the