Free Demon Lord 4: White Jade Reaper by Morgan Blayde Page B

hell. 
    My new satchel was the answer.  I picked it up from the floor near the bed and unzipped the soft leather case.  I threw back the lid.  Inside, on the bottom surface, a small spell circle had been inscribed with demon runes.  This was the same spell as the one in my armory that let me call forth my sword when I wanted it, through an altered space.  I put my guns and a butt-load of filled clips inside.  Every time the guns returned to the case, the spent clips would be exchanged for fresh ones. 
    I zipped the case shut.  My fingers tingled with raw magic as I activated the dormant spells.  Now for a test...  My hands hang at my side, empty.  I swept them up like a cowboy drawing six-shooters.  I aimed across the room as my Berettas materialized in my closing grip.  I set the semi-automatics on the bed.  With a thought, I reactivated the spell and the guns magically returned to the satchel.  A smile stretched my face.  Sweet.  Since my Berettas had the same come-and-go capability as my demon sword, I no longer had to encumber myself with holsters.
    The silence finally caught my attention.  Where are the girls?
    I looked around.  Their stuff was here, but they’d bailed on me.  The key to the room was missing as well.  Really, the girls didn’t seem to understand that waiting on my every whim was a great privilege.  Under the theory that they’d stepped outside for air and a change of scene, I decided to check the parking lot before calling Grace up and ranting at her and Madison. 
      I stepped out, closing the door behind me, and moved along the railing to the stairs.  They took me down to the parking lot.  There were no girls.  No sign of Onyx.  And my car was gone.  In the back of my mind, I heard the Old Man’s voice: Try being a kinder, gentler sociopath.  Bond your subordinates to you.  Let loyalty, not fear, be the word of the day.
    Loyalty, my ass.  If there’s a single scratch on my baby…
    My phone had Grace on speed dial.  I punched the number for her and waited for the connection to go through, staring past the parking lot at the desert landscape beyond.  In the near distance, off to the side, a plume of dust heralded a little excitement.  There seemed to be a small herd of something stampeding past.  Javelinas?    It was my first time seeing the wild pigs.  The adults were sixty pounds, standing over two feet at the shoulder.  A broad swath of bristles ran from the backs of their heads, down their backs.  And they had six inch fangs, uppers and lowers, which gave them their name; javelina was Spanish for javelin.
    After numerous rings, Grace’s voice finally unfurled from my cell phone.  “Yeah-lo?”
    “Grace, where’s my car?”
    “We, uh, sorta borrowed it.”
    “I did notice.”  One of my Berettas materialized in my free
    hand.  I lifted the semi-automatic and aimed at the lead pig, tracking his motion.  “Where are you?”
    “Burger World.  We got hungry.  Don’t worry, I’ll do you a favor and not tell Cassie you were starving me.”
    “How wonderful!”  I smiled like a crazy person.  For some reason it seemed to come easy.  “And I suppose I’m expected to let you live?”
    “We’ll bring you back a burger and some curly fries.”
    “A bacon cheeseburger.  I have a sudden urge for bacon.”  I moved my muzzle from the stampeding pigs, interested to see what was chasing them.  Sighting down the barrel, I saw another plume of dust, a smaller one.  There were three pursuers, chupacabras , Spanish for goatsuckers.  They were dusty hazel-colored beasts with stubby tails, raptor claws, spikes down their backs, and big black eyes.  The world lurched as my vision morphed from human to dragon.  It was like staring through high-powered binoculars. Details were much clearer.  The reptoid vampires had long prehensile tongues wagging out of their mouths.  The tongue-tip bore three three-inch fangs. I personally believed them to be