Roaring Blood (Demon-Hearted Book 2) (22 page)

“Hey, it's Germaine Fox here, I got your letter. I'm here with your boys, Lucy and, uh... the one with the slicked back hair like an extra from
Grease
. I'll tell you what I'm gonna do for ya. Got this buddy, Dennis, who works at the Celestial Armory. There's a sword there that should be able to compete with the Scythe of Thanatos. I'm gonna help them find it, but first we're going to have to find someone who can wield the thing. Lucy here won't be a good fit. Yeah, yeah, that's right. The sword will make the wielder immune to the scythe's blight.” At this junction, Germaine turned to look at me. “Kills a demon with a single blow, too.”

I admit I swerved a little. “It can
what?
”

“Yeah, all right, man. I'll talk to you later. We're going to visit Lucy's pad and get to know one another a little better. Meet us there? I'll try and get ahold of Dennis, too.” When the call was finished, Germaine pushed the phone off of the seat and then reoriented himself, facing the dash. “Says he might stop by for a visit. Wants to make sure you don't mess everything up, big guy.”

“That sword can
kill
a demon? Are you being serious right now?” I tried to envision a scenario in which my retrieving this weapon was a good thing, but kept coming up empty. I was pretty sure that, if such a weapon existed, the best thing would be for it to stay far, far away from me. In the wrong hands, it could... “That asshole Percy is going to end up with the sword, isn't he?” I asked, shifting my rearview mirror so that I was staring back at Joe. “He's gonna run in there with his angel sword, save the day and then hack me into pieces. That's how this is going to go, isn't it?”

“Who's Percy?” asked the spider.

“He's a hunter,” offered Joe. “He's been working with us on this case. Pretty tough guy and really good with a sword. He got roughed up last night during a fight with the necromancer's horde, but he's probably the best choice for this angel weapon you're talking about. He carries this big blade, with a bone for a hilt.”

“Sounds badass,” replied Germaine.

“Are you
sure
there's no other weapon that'll work here? Having the angel sword is nice and all, but Agamemnon, the necromancer, is a damn good fighter. What if Percy can't handle him?” I held my breath.

“He doesn't have to run laps around the guy, just has to cut him real good,” was Germaine's reply. “Seeing as how the necromancer's hyped up on death magic, it'll be a one-hit K-O. And never mind the undead. They won't even be able to come near him if he's holding the thing. It'll be a sealed deal-- if we can just find the sword.”

“And if we don't? What then?” I asked.

Germaine gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, then I guess we'll just have to send you in, to bitch and complain till the necromancer decides he's had enough and kills himself. You're a real drag, you know that, Lucy? I've never known a demon to whine this much. You've got the one and only Germaine Fox in your car. Relax. We're gonna do this up right and you won't have to worry your pretty little head about a thing. May as well start planning the victory party. Open bar, buffet and strippers-- the whole shebang. For the record, I prefer brunettes.”

It didn't matter how much the boisterous arachnid in my passenger seat tried to smooth things over: I was panicking. This sword we were looking for could do me in with a single cut and deliver me to that fiery oblivion I'd been stressing out over for a while now. And with my luck, Percy was going to be the one wielding it. He was a shoe-in, a talented swordsman. He also happened to bear me a grudge; he'd already tried to kill me once, and wasn't altogether fond of demons. After the way I'd messed everything up the night before in the woods and nearly gotten him killed, it didn't take a lot of imagination to figure out what he might do with me if a fancy demon-killing sword just dropped into his lap.

We arrived at my place. I stepped out of the car, pacing around the lot while Joe crawled out of the back seat. Germaine followed, dashing up my pant leg and glancing around. “So, which place is yours?” he asked.

***

“I was expecting something a little nicer, considering the type of car you drive,” said Germaine, crawling slowly across my kitchen counter. “This place is all right, I guess. It'll do, anyway.”

“What, are you moving in now? Fuck off.” I reached into the fridge, pulling out a pair of beers and offering Joe one. When he refused, I wrenched off both caps and decided to enjoy two beers, chugging them one after another.

“Why do you bother drinking that?” asked the spider. “Won't get you drunk. A Demon-Heart is a real special kind of organism. When you're possessed, drugs and alcohol can still mess with you. But when you've got a demon's heart in your body, they won't do a thing. The demon's got your organs working overtime to filter all of the bad shit out. For that matter, it's keeping you young, too. You'll never die of old age, disease or poisoning with Gadreel inside of you, but the minute you do kick the bucket, it ain't gonna be too pleasant.”

“Jesus Christ,” I said, throwing my beer across the room. The bottle narrowly avoided Germaine, who raced into the sink to take cover. “Remind me again, why don't you? You don't think I know that? Ever since I found out I've hardly been able to think about anything else! Not exactly looking forward to the afterlife over here. Can we just stop talking about it? I wanna declare a moratorium on discussing what'll happen to me after I'm dead.”

Joe, sweet guy that he was, stepped in to console me. “You know, there's always a loophole with this kind of thing. Maybe it's not a certainty, Lucy. Maybe you'll be able to go to Heaven when the time comes, and--”

“Your pretty face is going to Hell, kid,” interjected Germaine. “And the sooner you make peace with that, the better.”

“Well... like you said, he won't die of old age. So it isn't something he'll have to worry about for a really long time, right?” offered Joe, opening the fridge and fishing out a beer. He decided he needed a drink after all.

“Sure, unless Percy the swordsman decides to run me through with this special sword after he's done with Agamemnon. Did you ever consider that?” I sat down at the kitchen table, head in my hands.

“He wouldn't do that,” replied Joe firmly.

“Oh yeah? And how can you be so sure?” I still had the taste of beer in my mouth, but the high was completely absent. I wished just then that I could get shit-faced one more time. To drink myself into a coma so that this mess would simply go away. It would have been so much easier.

“Because,” said Joe after a time, “he's a good guy. He looks out for the people on his team.”

That was it? I was supposed to leave my fate in Percy's hands because he was a “good guy”? Sounded like one hell of a gamble. “Whatever.” I pointed to Germaine. “You should call your friend and find out if we can get ahold of that sword. Agamemnon could strike at any time, so the sooner we get ahold of it, the better.”

The spider rested its bulk on the lip of the sink. “We're short on time, but I don't think you have to worry about the necromancer attacking the city tonight, at least. He'll wait till the new moon.”

“Huh?” asked Joe and I in tandem.

“The new moon. Did I stutter?”

“What
about
the new moon?” I asked. “What reason would he have to wait until the new moon?”

“Well,” began Germaine, “I'm sure you know by now what happens to
you
on the night of the new moon, right? That ain't no coincidence. The forces of darkness are empowered on the night of a new moon. The necromancer and his horde will be at their strongest that night; makes sense to me that he'd put off his big show till the time is right. You didn't know that?”

Fair enough. We had an extra day to come up with this sword and track down Agamemnon-- that is, if Germaine's thinking was correct. The odds were still stacked against us and I didn't like where any of this was going, but our lot had improved very slightly.

“We didn't know that, no,” admitted Joe. “But if what you're saying is true, we still only have a day to stop this war from going down. Mind calling your friend so we can get busy? Sun's going to be going down and the city will be crawling with zombies soon.”

“You do that,” I said. “I'm going to go lay down in bed. I need to clear my head. Let me know when you hear back and we'll get moving.” I slid my phone across the counter towards Germaine and started for my room.

***

If you want to, you can skip this part. Instead of napping, I engaged in a good bit of moody brooding. Heck of a time for me to go to pieces, but I had a lot on my plate. I tossed and turned in bed like an angsty teen and tried to work out my shit.

So, I was damned, and Germaine's advice was that I needed to get over it. Make peace with it.

That was easy for him to say.

When he died, he was off to Spider Heaven, or whatever.

But me? I've read bits and pieces of Dante's
Inferno
. I knew what was coming. There was a bonafide demon expert in my apartment and he was completely certain that my soul was bound for Hell. Usually when I encountered something in life that I couldn't change, acceptance was my go-to.

Not so, in this case.

Up until the fact of my damnation was made known, I hadn't actually put much thought into the existence of a Heaven or Hell. My time had been taken up by stuff like werewolves, zombies and witches, and I'd had precious little time to reflect on the bigger questions in life. I've never been a religious guy, had always figured that when I died, that would be it. End of story.

I liked it better that way.

Outside my room I could hear Germaine chattering with Joe. I held my pillow over my face to drown out his annoying voice. According to him, this angelic sword was the only way out of this mess. If we got ahold of it and cut down Agamemnon, then hooray for mankind!

But ol' Lucian? Well, there was no telling how I might fare in the deal. Even though Percy and Kanta were playing nice right now, who could say how long that might last? The mere existence of weapons like this one scared me out of my wits. Let's say Percy didn't skewer me the minute he got his hands on it. Someone else down the line certainly might.

This was the sort of thing that could keep me up at night.

I sat up, rubbing at my eyes and sniffing at the air.

No, goddammit. I wasn't crying. The pillow was dusty and it made my eyes water. You know you've got to replace those every few months because the dust mites just get out of control, right?

Well, Gadreel... I don't know what's going to happen to us when this is all over. But I do know we have to do what we can to save Detroit. I want to save the people of this city, and everything else I've tried so far has ended in failure. That necromancer is tough. If this sword is our only chance, then we'll try and find it. As for the consequences... let's worry about those later, eh?

My heart twisted in my chest, and I could almost feel the veins and arteries attached to it getting knotted. What this meant I couldn't say; if I had to guess, though, it probably meant the demon wasn't fond of my plan. Self-preservation and all of that. Who could blame him? Gadreel, a fallen angel, had no reason to care about the city or the millions living in it.

I patted my chest, quieting down my heart and taking in a deep breath. “Calm down there, bud. I tell you what, let's go out there and have some cake.” I stood up, straightening out my clothes and tossing my pillow back onto the head of the bed. “Worry about the necromancer first. Then, after the fight is over, we can handle the angel sword. Don't sweat it.”

I heard another voice outside my room; Kubo's deep drawl boomed in the air as he closed the door to my apartment. I stepped out of the bedroom groggily.

And then, looking out into the kitchen, I froze in my tracks.

TWENTY-SIX

“What in the hell do you think you're doing?” I screamed. “That isn't for you!”

Germaine met my furious gaze with his many eyes, up to his pedipalps in German chocolate cake. His legs were covered in frosting, and his forelimbs lifted small bits of the ruined desert to his waiting mouthparts.

“Settle down, kid!” he replied through a mouthful of frosting. “I saved you some. Don't go embarrassing yourself in front of everyone. Be a good host, why don't you?”

I immediately stormed across the room to the cabinets, rifling through the drawer I used to store my knives. Selecting the biggest one I could find, I made a dash for the table and narrowly avoided Germaine's frosted carapace. “You're done! Done!”

From the living room came Kubo and Percy in a hurry. They each took one of my arms and dragged me back towards the refrigerator, frothing at the mouth. “Cool your head, Lucy,” ordered the Chief. “I didn't come here to talk dessert.”

I spied Kanta lingering near my record player in the living room, smirking. She'd cleaned up since last I saw her; a silver sari, a fresh braid and, perhaps most impressively, her ankle wasn't all swollen. There were bright bruises there, but she didn't have any trouble walking. Dr. Sargasso, or Mona, perhaps, had patched her up. Percy, who struggled to contain me, didn't look like death, either.

As always, the Veiled Order's medical team had come through.

Which meant only one thing.

I was going to have to hack Germaine into such tiny pieces that not even Mona would be able to put him back together again.

Germaine ambled over to the edge of the kitchen table. “So, uh, I guess we're all here now, eh?”

Pushing me in the chest with an open palm, Kubo nodded. “That's right. It's nice to meet you, Germaine. I wasn't expecting...”

“Surprised the hell out of me, too,” I said, reaching out for the knife. Joe and Percy herded me back towards the bedroom. “That disgusting little thing isn't fit to live. When this is over with, I swear I'm going to--”

Kubo cleared his throat loudly. “Anyway, did you get ahold of your friend? The one in charge of the armory?”

Germaine gave the spider equivalent of a nod, body twitching. “Yep. He'll meet us there.”

“All right. Give me a minute,” said Kubo to the spider. Then, looking at me sharply, he waved towards the living room. “Lucy, a word?”