Raw Power: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Demon-Hearted Book 1) (23 page)

I shrugged my way out of his grasp and ambled towards the kitchen, switching off the coffee maker. “Look, it's not like I was out partying. I tried to sleep, man... it's just I couldn't.” Rummaging around in my cabinets for a large mug, I looked over at them. “Anyone else want some coffee? I'm going to guzzle a few cups, if y'all don't mind.”

Joe and Isabella were walking through my living room; Joe regarding my décor with a veiled derision and Isabella marveling at every flourish and fixture as though it were her first day on Earth.

 
“Nice place you got here,
I guess
,” said Joe, frowning before my framed replica of John Martin's
The Destruction of Tyre
and refusing my offer of coffee.

 
Let me tell you something: Joe might have a heart of gold and all that, but the dude's got shit taste in art if he doesn't like
The Destruction of Tyre
. The painting is a masterwork, totally underrated, and features the ruination of the city of Tyre by a monstrous wave. The sky is black, and crackling with lightning. Aside from being aesthetically pleasing, it was, in my opinion, the most badass apocalyptic painting of all time. Joe was a Philistine, full-stop.

Kubo wasn't interested in coffee either, but after her brief spell of wandering, Isabella meandered into the kitchen looking like she was high on a dangerous cocktail of drugs. I still didn't know what her deal was; she had a weird way of moving and speaking, even when she wasn't doing her magical thing. On first glimpse, I'd thought that maybe she wasn't right in the head, and yet whenever I spoke to her, I found that she answered clearly, in full-- if not strange-- sentences.

“Isabella would like coffee,” she said.

I packed it with cream and sugar as per her mumbled instructions. Watching her accept a mug of steaming coffee and blow on it from beneath her burlap hood, I didn't know what to make of her. She was wearing that sack of an outfit again, the outside messily stitched up with bizarre designs in black thread. On further inspection, they looked like misshapen snowflakes. I wondered why she wore such an outfit, and if she ever changed out of the damn thing.

Isabella was done with the coffee in a flash, first sticking her tongue in it like a timid kitten, and then guzzling it like a truck driver when she found it wasn't as hot as it looked. Panting, she handed me the empty cup without a word and then continued touching all of the shit in my living room with wonder.

“So,” I said, leaning against my counter and sipping at my coffee, “is everything set? Did you make your preparations, or whatever?”

Joe flipped through my vinyl while Kubo joined me in the kitchen. “There's a lot riding on this, so, unlike you, I've spent the last day getting ready. For starters, I have an Order strike team prepped and ready, just in case things go south. They'll be less than a mile away from the church, monitoring things from air and ground, and will storm in should I fail to contact them every half hour. If we can't put down those dogs, then the strike team may be able to do it. At the very least, they can blow the place apart and disrupt their plans further.”

 
I almost choked on a gulp of coffee. “Wait, blow the place up? What is this, the Tet Offensive? There's probably gonna be a baby in there, chief. A fucking
baby
.”

Kubo was standing close, looking down at me with evident disdain woven into the twitchy caterpillars of his brows. “Don't give me that shit. There's a whole lot more at stake here than a single kid. Don't forget that.”

I looked into my cup, breaking eye contact and trying not to let him intimidate me. Slurping coffee in Kubo's shadow, I glanced up at him. “You keep saying that, but even now I don't know what the fuck they're trying to do, these witches. What's the end-game?”

Kubo frowned. He wasn't in a mood to answer questions and belted out yet another canned response. “They're prepping the church for their ritual. On the night of the full moon, they'll sacrifice that infant they kidnapped in the hopes of summoning a powerful demon and bringing it under their control.”

 
It was Joe who clarified, uttering something under his breath that I very nearly missed. “Yep, they're trying to take hold of the demon inside of
you
, bro.
Obviously
.” He stuck his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and stood beside my kitchen table.

The chief shot him a death stare, but the cat was out of the bag. “Shut your goddamn mouth, Joe.”

It was all I could do not to drop my coffee. I juggled with the mug a minute, splashing hot brew all over my hands. Looking between the two of them, I tittered, leaning back against the counter and letting my legs splay out across the floor. “Yeah. Wouldn't that be something?” I felt my skin growing hot, flushed. Sucking my teeth, I steadied my mug and stuck a finger out at Kubo forcefully.

Here's a hint: It wasn't the pointer finger.

“He isn't lying, is he?” I said after a few moments of complete silence. “You son of a bitch, you've been keeping this from me all this time?” I looked at the three of them. Even Isabella was paying attention now, sauntering into the kitchen cautiously. I had half a mind to throw my coffee in Kubo's face but narrowly resisted the urge, instead giving him a shove across the room.

Kubo was a big guy, had a fair bit of height and weight on me.

But even a big guy can get pushed around by a demon.

I was pissed, damn near spitting, as Kubo hit my refrigerator with a thump. “What the hell were you thinking? How long did you think you could keep this from me?”

Without missing a beat, Kubo stood up and straightened himself. “It wasn't relevant,” he replied cooly. “Knowing about it would have only complicated things, given you something more to worry about as you participated in the mission.”

 
“No shit!” I blurted. “And do you know why that is?” I socked myself in the chest with such force that it would have killed me if not for the demon heart racing inside of me. “It's because they've been after
me
this whole damn time! I'd say that's pretty fucking relevant, you asshole.”

Approaching me carefully, Kubo sighed and gingerly took hold of the mug I still held. Half of its contents had been spilled already. Setting it on the table, he nodded at the door. “Get yourself dressed. We can talk about it more on the way.”

THIRTY-TWO

If there's one thing I hate, it's being lied to. Misled.

I can withstand a little fib now and then.

Lie to me about what brand of fabric softener you use and I'll let it pass.

But this? This was a frigging whopper.

I mean, guys have been buried in the desert for less.

I was riding shotgun as Kubo pulled away from our place and started for the church where Agatha and her sisters were holed up. Before we got there, though, I intended to get answers. This thing was about to get blown open, completely, with a disclosure that'd make Wikileaks proud, else I wasn't going to fight.

That's right. I was willing to take my marbles and go home, if that was what it took, and I let Kubo know it. I wasn't just going to smile and nod like I'd been doing. I was too deep into this to get lied to anymore, and I wanted to know the whole story, start to finish. I sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, while Kubo started.

“From the fucking top,” I reminded him. “And don't gloss over any important shit, else you guys can drop me off here.”

 
Straightening his shades, Kubo gripped the wheel. “Whatever you say, princess.” He paused. “The demon inside of you,
Gadreel
, is a fallen angel.”

 
My heart lurched in my chest, almost as if the demon within me were answering to the name. I uttered the syllables under my breath, shuddering. Something about them felt right.
Gadreel
.

 
“Gadreel,” Kubo continued, “was on the Order's radar. Had been for a long time. From the shadows he'd been orchestrating a lot of shit-- making trouble for us. Gadreel, you see, has a rich history. As one of the fallen
grigori
, he's been messing with humans since day one, and he was the one who taught men the art of war. You've basically got the god of war inside of you, the inspiration behind the Greek god Ares. Oh, but Gadreel wasn't just into war and killing. He and his fellow
grigori
enjoyed another hobby. Breeding with human beings. As I'm sure you know, that sort of thing doesn't really fly. If denizens of the Beyond merely interfering with humankind is off the table, then you can be sure that bedding them is a far graver sin in the eyes of the Order.”

So, Gadreel liked beating people up and getting laid.

We had a lot more in common than I'd previously given him credit for.

 
Kubo went on. “Agatha and the members of her coven are well known to the Order because, in the past, they've assisted us on numerous jobs. Contractors, of a kind. But, not too long ago, the coven went rogue. They started inquiring after the demon Gadreel so that the heads of the Order got suspicious. An investigation revealed that they were trying to summon the demon into this world, to invoke and enslave it, and they'd even taken steps towards crafting a powerful spell to control the demon. Spell craft of this order is virtually unheard of. The needs that would have to be met to make a
grigori
your slave... the power it would require, would be immense. And because of that, Agatha and her sisters turned to blood sacrifice. Blood, especially that of children, is the most potent ingredient one can utilize in maximizing the power of spells. But they needed a lot of it. When kids started disappearing eight months ago, we took notice, and it wasn't long before we could trace the crimes to Agatha.”

I felt doubly betrayed, knowing that Agatha had once been on the Order's payroll, but I held my tongue. That explained why the ghostly informant, Ernie, had been so sure he'd seen Agatha in the abandoned church. He'd probably worked with her in the past.

 
“We commanded the coven to cease its rituals at once and we tried more than once to apprehend the witches. We failed. In time, the situation became more desperate, and the higher-ups in the Veiled Order began getting nervous. They hatched a new plan, decided we needed to beat the witches to the punch, if you will. And they started learning everything they could about Gadreel, dedicating tremendous resources towards summoning and capturing the demon before Agatha could. See, if Agatha and her sisters gained control of the
grigori
, then the end result would be widespread destruction. If the Order could control the demon however, then perhaps we could cross a powerful enemy off of our most wanted list and use his power for good, all at once.”

“So, that's what you did,” I uttered.

“Exactly. We poured a lot of effort into conjuring the demon, and when we had him where we wanted, we managed to immobilize him with potent magic. This was the work of numerous experts in every field of magic you can think of, but he still couldn't control him. It was a trap. The Order had to call in favors from all over this world and the next. We weren't even sure it would work. But we got him, imprisoned him, and then we got the bright idea to carve out his heart. We weren't going to put together a spell to control the demon and make it bend to our will, as that would have been far too difficult and dangerous. But we had another method, an experiment that some of the top members of the organization had always wanted to try. That's the demonic transplant that you underwent. All they needed was a suitable body.”

 
“Well,
thank goodness
I was there to help them out with that requirement.” I shook my head. “To think, if not for me, that demon heart might've spoilt.”

“It was done to keep Agatha from invoking and controlling the demon,” said Kubo. “We thought that, by carving out its heart and cremating its body, that Gadreel would be out of their reach. Once the heart was transplanted, that is. But it seems we were mistaken, because you were still drawn to the house in Flint, where they had staged a ritual. That night, when you escaped? The residual energies of their invocational spells were enough to draw Gadreel back to that place, even though the witches were gone. You fought through town on your way back there, wreaking havoc. It was there that I found you, getting attacked by police. The demon still lives on in you, and though its presence is diminished, they can still gain control of it if their spell is fulfilled. In this case, however, they'll get a side of Lucy in the deal, too.”

 
“So, the two sides in this are basically fighting over who gets to control
me
, huh?” I worked at my forehead with the heel of my palm. “And that box of ashes Amundsen sent me to pick up that first night... that was full of the demon's cremains, wasn't it?”

Kubo nodded. “That's right. The coven managed to snatch the box and were using it to strengthen their magic. With Gadreel's remains, degraded though they were, they'd hoped to amplify their influence over the demon. We're still not sure whether it worked, but Amundsen thought you might be able to steal it back, not knowing that the coven was holding a sabbath that night. When you got caught in the crossfire, well, we found our body. The transplant was carried out on Mr. Amundsen's recommendation and... here we are, Lucy.”

I gulped. It didn't make sense to me. This whole time there'd been a mess going on behind the scenes that I'd never been made privy to. I couldn't parse the truth from the lies. My head was spinning. “And where the fuck are we, exactly?”

Kubo pulled over, parking the SUV against the curb. “As it happens, we're a few blocks away from the church where Agatha and her sisters are waiting. Are you ready to get out and face this, or do you still insist on wasting time with questions?”

 
I sat bolt upright, appalled. “Oh, well, excuse the fuck out of me,
Takeshi!
Sorry for asking all of these meddlesome questions and all! I hope you'll forgive me! It's just that I don't know what I can believe anymore. How do I know I can trust
anything
you've told me after all of this?”