Page 17 of Kiss of Wrath

“Seriously, hon, can you cover for me? I shouldn’t be much later than four-thirty.” As an incentive, she added, “I’ll bring Chinese for dinner. And Shakey’s sticky buns for dessert.”

“Consider me buttered.”

Whatever happens in Vegas better stay in Vegas . . .

Once again, excitement reigned in Horror, the icy palace headquarters of the Lucipires in the far Arctic regions of the world. The prospect of a new mission to bring vast numbers of evil humans into their ranks had them salivating with anticipation. Literally.

Not a pretty sight, thought Jasper, shivering with distaste. Now king of the demon vampires, Jasper had once been a beauteous archangel, one of God’s favored ones, afore being expelled from Heaven along with Lucifer and his other rebel followers. The one delegated to expel them had been St. Michael the Archangel, Jasper’s most-hated enemy.

And it wasn’t just the drooling that repulsed him. When they were in their demonoid forms, whether they be high haakai, mungs, imps, or hordlings, their skin was scaly, their eyes bloodred, their hands and feet claw-like, with slime oozing from every pore, and then there were the fangs. Of course, they could morph into the most attractive human forms, when needed.

Jasper walked purposefully down the Corridor of Change, where he usually slowed down to enjoy his unique collection, but not today. Too much on his mind.

Both sides of the hallway were lined with giant butterfly jars in which “dead” humans were pinned through the heart like, well, butterflies. They hung inside, flailing their limbs, screaming their no-longer-beating hearts out. Eventually, they would reach a state of stasis, at which point they either willingly became Lucipires or entered the torture dungeons where a little, or a lot, of painful persuasion usually brought them around to Jasper’s way of thinking.

“Shall I take that one out for you to play with?” asked Beltane, his French hordling assistant. He pointed a clawed hand toward the right where a new human had just been placed the night before. A blond woman who had been active in a worldwide sex slave trade specializing in young girls and boys. Very young.

“Later,” Jasper snapped, then softened his tone, realizing that the young Creole—young, as in only one hundred and fifty years old, compared to Jasper’s ancient age—had only been trying to please him. “Mayhap you and I can both play with her later.”

Beltane gazed at Jasper with the adoration that was his due, but in the young hordling’s case, the affection appeared to be genuine. Jasper’s cold heart warmed a bit at the prospect. This must be the paternal feeling humans talked about regarding fathers and sons.

If only all his minions regarded Jasper with the same high regard, if not at least deference. He was thinking, of course, of Heinrich Mann, who stood in the open doorway of the conference room up ahead, waiting for him. Heinrich, whom Jasper not-so-affectionately referred to as Heiney, was a former Nazi general, who had somehow gained the confidence of Satan, and become a personal thorn in Jasper’s backside.

If he gives me one of those Hitler salutes, I swear I am going to puke.

‘”Master,” Heinrich said, bowing low. “It is good to see you again.”

Liar, liar, your swastika’s on fire.

“Welcome, Heinrich,” Jasper said in a tone that told the German weasel just how unwelcome he was. “Please come inside and be seated.”

The open doorway was still blocked by the German, who was only seventy years old, having died when in his thirties, serving as a Nazi officer during World War II. Unlike Jasper, who was almost two thousand years old. A prime candidate to become a Lucipire, Heinrich had been, but the biggest pain in Jasper’s hairy behind he’d been ever since then.

“The other members of the council are already inside,” Heinrich informed him, as if Jasper were not already aware of that fact. And since when had Heinrich become a council member? As far as Jasper knew, and he knew everything about Lucipires and their commanding council, Heinrich was a mere liaison with Satan. Well, not exactly “mere,” but not a council member, either. “I wanted to have a word with you in private.”

Uh-oh!

“Satan is displeased by the discord between us.”

“Us?”

“You and I.” Heinrich’s scaly face flushed with color.

Jasper hadn’t known that Lucipires could blush. Amazing. And alarming when you considered why Heinrich would be blushing. It did not bode well for Jasper, he would bet his best thumbscrew.

Jasper arched an overly thick brow at Heinrich.

Heinrich shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

Uh-oh! Jasper thought again.

“The solution might be for me to stay here.”

“Here?”

“At Horror.”

Jasper was horrified. “Why?”