Demon Lord 5: Silver Crown King by Morgan Blayde Page A

pull off my coming coronation.  The mascot on the sign—a red robin lounging in a cardboard tub of raspberry-fudge dribble—looked unbearably pleased with himself.  Just behind me plodded the security escort the Old Man had thrust upon me.  The clan soldiers were cloaked , using various types of magic to pass for human.
    I turned toward them, tired of their bickering, and fed raw magic to my Dragon Sight tattoo.  Their magic type sand strengths appeared for my eyes alone.  Jo-jo wore a red aura, its intensity indicated very strong fire demon magic.  He said, “Well, one of us needs to stay out here and keep an eyeball peeled.”
    “You do it,” Jorge said.  “I need ice cream.  There’s a blockage in my chakras.”  Indeed, he did have a blockage in his energy flow, an occasional hazard when you mix incompatible magicks.  His aura indicated he was a lower-level practitioner of earth magic, and dabbled in necromancy on the side.
    Megan, the only hot chick in the group, had transformative magic, the demon equivalent of a shape-shifter.  She said, “You can’t even spell ‘chakras’.  And you don’t need ice cream, you only want it.”
    “Technically true,” Gumbo, the Cajun gater-demon, boomed.  High level water magic there.  “But we all want ice cream, so someone’s gotta miss out.”
    “Or,” I said, “You could all wait out here and not spook the dragons I’m meeting with, and when I’m done, I’ll buy you all a chocolate ice cream cake.”
    Unfortunately, you have to be nice to the people volunteering to take a bullet for you. 
    Fortunately, nice is relative.
    Megan looked at me, brushing metallic red hair away from blue-chrome eyes. 
    Yeah, nothing unnatural about her . 
    She said, “We’re supposed to be looking out for you.  It’s our big chance to move up in the ranks.”
    I said it slowly, “Ice cream cake .”
    Jo-jo and Gumbo exchanged a quick glance, nodded and said, “Deal.”
    I turned back to the door, opened it, and went in—alone.
    The store was long and narrow, divided by a display case with bucket full of frozen decadence.  One person was on duty.  Helping an old lady gently toward a diabetic coma.  On the left, were three small tables with chairs, up against a glass window looking out on a patio with umbrella tables for outdoor dining.  The very last table had Drake and Kinsey.  He had a traditional Sunday in a waffle-cone bowl, with added sprinkles.   She had her back to the corner, as if expecting an attack.  Not a bad practice really.  Her sugar cone, with two scoops of rainbow sherbet, was clutched in both hands, as if she were afraid of it being suddenly snatched away.
    I went up to the table and stood where they both could see me.  There was no third chair for me to sit in.  This wasn’t deliberate.  The other tables each only had a pair of chairs.  Really, this place needed a bigger storefront. 
    Drake nodded.  His yellow diamond cufflinks flashed.  He made a greeting out of recognizing my name, “Caine.  How’s the ‘death walking’ these days?”  He wore his steel-gray hair cropped close, and filled out a tawny suit with white shirt and a milk chocolate colored tie.  His seamed face was clean-shaved, leathery as dragon wings.  His deep-set eyes were also brown but possessed a butter yellow flecks.  My magically heightened sight didn’t pick up any magic weapons or relics on him.  He didn’t even register as having magic.  Too powerful to need a weapon; this was the impression he wanted to give.  With my weapons available by magic, I appeared unarmed too, going for the same affect.
    Kinsey smiled with no attempt to disguise her malice.  She nodded her greeting.  “Hey, half-blood freak, do you think you brought enough backup to be safe from me?”
    I smiled in return.  “Since I announced my up-coming coronation in Fairy, the assassination attempts on me have increased dramatically.  The Old Man won’t let me go