Axes and Angels: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Novel (Better Demons Series Book 1)

by Matthew Herrmann

  Yikes. Maybe I hadn’t quite thought things through.

  I bit my lip. “How do I know Orion is still alive?”

  Gan deferred to the Minotaur beside him. “Orion is ALIVE,” the Minotaur said. “We have HISTORY. I would not LIE.”

  I thought this over. The Minotaur certainly didn’t seem to be lying. “You said if I do this job, we’ll discuss the terms of Orion’s release. Is that a guarantee that Typhon will release him immediately after the artifact’s verification?”

  Gan sighed politely. “We represent Typhon but we cannot speak for his precise wishes on the matter. Although obtaining the artifact will, ah certainly put you in his good graces.”

  I just looked at him. Seriously, whose side was this prick on? Was he playing me? “If you can’t speak for Typhon,” I said, “call him up and ask.”

  “Or what?” Dickie Man said. “You won’t get the item?”

  I nodded.

  Dickie Man laughed as he made eye contact with several of the red bandana goons stationed strategically throughout the crowded dance floor around us. “You obviously don’t know how the game is played. My boss has leverage on you. And what do you got? Bumpkis. Don’t you forget that.”

  “Wow. When you put it that way …” I said with so much sarcasm I thought it might burn my tongue.

  “HAH,” the Minotaur said. “Orion has good TASTE. I LIKE her.” He wiped his snout with his wrist.

  I thought about it, or rather, I made it look like I was thinking about it. “So if I pull this job, there’s no guarantee that Typhon will release Orion. But at least he won’t put him in the Arena, either?”

  “Gee, this gal’s smarter than she looks,” Dickie Man said. “We got a deal?”

  “What could go wrong?” I sighed. “Sure.”

  Gan turned to the side and nodded. Then he met my gaze again and said, “Great. May I present to you your guide.”

  A woman stepped forth.

  “No!” Simon shouted. “Anyone but her!”

  Garfunkel rubbed his hands together hungrily. “Oh yes!”

  And for the second time that night, my stomach dropped, much like it was attached to an anvil in a Looney Toons cartoon.

  There, standing across from me, looking quite stunning in a short black dress, her four slender yet muscular arms adorned in shiny gold bangles that caught the flashing light as she met my eyes, was my old partner.

  Lucy.

  “Reputation—If My Ex-Partner Was A Taylor Swift Album”

  Lucy. Uber capable bodyguard to an Indian goddess before the gods left. Smart, quick-tempered, deadly. In short … trouble.

  “You’re working for Typhon?” I blurted out. She’d recently tried to reinsert herself into my life, had saved my life by literally pulling me out of Typhon’s Arena a few days ago—which made sense if she was working for him. Part of me wanted to punch her; part of me wanted to hug her. All of me was just confused.

  Just what I needed. Another pesky variable.

  The Minotaur snorted amusedly. Right, I’d forgotten I had an audience.

  I grabbed one of Lucy’s arms, flashing an imitation smile at Typhon’s lieutenants. “Excuse us. We have a history—may we speak together in private for a moment?”

  “I’ve heard about this PHENOMENON,” the Minotaur said. “When the womenfolk go to the LITTLE GIRL’S ROOM together. So INTERESTING.”

  Gan shrugged at me. “You already agreed to the deal.” To his companions, he said, “I’m going to start the car, bring it around.”

  I led Lucy to the bathroom. Some college-age girls were applying makeup in the sink mirror but I didn’t care as I tore into my tirade. “What the hell are you doing here, Lucy?”

  “Why, Theo, it’s good to see you too.”

  I raised an angry finger. “Grr … It’s like the universe is testing me. First Gan. Now you. What else could go wrong tonight? Flying monkeys from Oz?”

  Lucy frowned at my movie reference and I noticed a couple of her fists clench and relax. “Typhon’s lieutenants could pump you full of lead, that’s what could go wrong.”

  “Oh? You suddenly care about me now?” I asked. “We’re not partners anymore—you messed that up. And you’re one to talk; I saw you in the Arena—why are you involved with Typhon?”

  Lucy winced, her haughty confidence faltering. “I’m already a lost cause—you told me that.” She sighed, her shoulders sagging like collapsed helium balloons. “But to answer your question, I believe the human colloquialism is, ‘It’s complicated—’ ”

  I shoved a finger against her chest and Lucy fell back a step, colliding with the college girls.

  “Ow,” one of them said.

  “Rude,” said another.

  Lucy smoothed the front of her dress, the matching sets of spiraling gold arm bands on her wrists glinting with the bathroom’s fluorescent lighting. They were most likely weapons of some sort but they masqueraded perfectly as jewelry. I was slightly (OK, a lot) jealous. Lucy’s dress was gorgeous too, and her hair …

  “Complicated?” I said.

  Lucy stared at me apprehensively for a moment before tightening her features. “Typhon is bad news. You really don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

  “I really don’t care,” I said. “Typhon has my partner.”

  Lucy winced again.

  “And,” I continued, “I’m willing to do whatever is necessary to get him back.”

  Lucy regarded me coolly, seeming to debate this. “Orion clearly means a lot to you. And you’re not one to back down. Maybe I can help … if you promise to get out of Typhon’s business. Something big is coming, and that man is right in the middle of it.”

  I laughed. “I’m so scared. And you want to help me? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “What?” Lucy said. “Is it really so hard to believe I have your best intentions in mind? Didn’t I prove it when I tossed that rope down in the Arena for you to escape?”

  Her nerve—telling me not to get involved with Typhon when she herself had front row seats to his Arena!

  The college girls were now standing off to the side, watching us intently, but I didn’t care. I stepped up to Lucy and pushed her again, this time with my palm instead of my finger. The girls gasped.

  “I don’t know what you’re playing at but you’re not trying to help me,” I said. “You’re working an angle. All you care about is yourself, you selfish bitch!”

  Lucy popped her neck and flashed me a dangerous look. Her fists clenched again. “Takes one to know one.”

  A toilet flushed and a woman rushed out of a stall, fled the bathroom without washing her hands. Eww.

  Lucy shot forward while I was distracted and latched onto my elbows and shoulders with her four hands. She hoisted me up over the sinks, slammed my back against the mirror.

  “OMG!” one of the college girls said, her camera phone raised. The flash above the aperture annoyed me as I struggled.

  “Theo!” Simon wailed.

  “Cat fight!” Garfunkel cheered.

  I tried to twist my way out from Lucy’s grasp but it only prompted her to shove me back harder, and the mirror spiderwebbed beneath my shoulder blades and head. I grimaced and said, “This is why we can’t have nice things!”

  From the club’s speakers outside the bathroom came the muted chorus of Taylor Swift’s Bad Blood.

  Lucy grunted. “I can’t help it if you always piss me off.”

  “Breathe,” I said. “You need to calm down.”

  “Me? Calm down? In your wildest dreams.” Lucy pressed my shoulder back against the mirror, sending shards clattering into the sink.

  “Are you okay, Theo?” Simon asked from inside his protective shoulder pad.

  “I think we got off on the wrong foot,” I said, straining against Lucy’s multiple vice grips on my arms. I tried to kick her but she had me pinned down too well. “Can’t we just talk … like civilized girls?”

  Lucy was still seeing red. “This is me tryin
g.”

  “Call it what you want—” I jerked my knee up, striking Lucy in the chin.

  “Ow!”

  “You’re so delicate,” I said, freeing one of my arms and following up with a chop to Lucy’s unprotected neck. She released her grip on me and stumbled backward as one of the college girls threw a compact at Lucy and then a chapstick.

  “Get away from her, you mean Other,” one of the girls said, glancing back at her friend’s phone camera. “Did you get that?”

  Lucy turned to face the camera and snarled. The girls backed away.

  “Oh yeah,” said the girl behind the phone.

  “Post the video—post it!” The girls ran past us and out the door, shrieking. A moment later, I understood why: the greenish lich king lurking just outside.

  Just great; if Lucy knew I was working with him, it could blow the entire operation.

  “Theo, dost thou require combat assistance?” he asked.

  “No, LK—er, unnamed undead wait staff,” I answered tersely.

  LK gave me a curious look that said, Did I do something wrong? and I jerked my head at Lucy, a representative of Typhon—AKA the enemy. LK’s cataract-glazed eyes blinked in acknowledgment.

  I raised a hand. “Gah! What are you doing in here? This isn’t medieval times—didn’t someone explain to you what the sign above the door means? You know, the stick figure wearing a dress?”

  LK paused; then he grinned like a child, gripping his toga in one hand. “Miss, I believe I am wearing the required attire to enter—”

  I facepalmed to really sell the charade to Lucy. Seems my lich king friend’s brains weren’t as invisible as the rest of his body. “That’s a toga. Now get out, chauvinistic undead male who thinks he can waltz into the women’s restroom!”

  LK bowed awkwardly, letting the door swing closed as he hovered away.

  I straightened up. Across from me, Lucy looked a bit calmer now. “Was that a … lich king?” she asked.

  “Welcome to New York,” I said and shrugged. “Strange people everywhere. The other day I saw some girl performing street tricks and aerial maneuvers with her dragon.”

  Lucy blinked. “But I could have sworn he addressed you as ‘Theo’ …”

  “Did he?” I said, scratching behind my ear. “You know human slang these days. Or maybe he was saying some Old English word. That’s probably it.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure he said, ‘Theo’ …”

  Now I shot forward and kicked out at Lucy’s knee from the side, an unhealed injury from a previous job of ours. She fell to her knee, supporting herself with a couple hands on the sink.

  “If you mess this up for me …” I said, but Lucy was chuckling. “What?”

  Lucy grinned up at me as she panted and wiped a spot of blood from the corner of her mouth. “That kick of yours. Still got it.” Her muscles relaxed and she took a deep breath.

  When I realized she was turning off berserker mode, I said, “Truce?”

  My ex-partner nodded.

  I straightened up, still a bit wary. Lucy could be as unpredictable as a jar of spiders—not that a person would have a jar of spiders … well, Garfunkel might.

  “Look, I’m sorry for jumping your case earlier,” I said. “I’m under a lot of pressure and it’s almost too much of a coincidence that you just happen to be working for Typhon.”

  Lucy let out a deep breath, her shoulders sagging with the effort. “It’s not like that.” There was a sobering look in her eyes. “I’m not working for Typhon—he owns me.”

  “Owns you?”

  “Let’s just say I owe him a debt,” Lucy went on. “A big one. Believe me when I say we’re both in deep. It’s in both our best interests to retrieve this artifact. One last job together, eh?”

  I still didn’t fully buy her story. “So, what? You think that by helping me recover this artifact, Typhon will forgive your debt?”

  “It couldn’t hurt. And I don’t know. Maybe you could put in a good word for me?”

  The expression of utter hopelessness on Lucy’s face made me want to believe her but I had to remind myself that like me, she had a mastery over both disguising her emotions and martial arts. Either one could get a person in trouble really fast.

  “You do know where this haunted mine is, right?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I learned from the best.” Then she extended one of her hands. “We good?”

  I took a deep breath. Then I clasped her hand and shook. “We’re …”

  And that’s when the magic tattoo AKA Brotherhood of Zeus tracking sigil on my extended forearm lit up like a neon sign.

  Lucy touched my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  I met my ex-partner’s eyes. “Hopefully nothing. But I think we should go.”

  Before I could make it out the bathroom door, Arachne’s voice came over my earpiece.

  “Theo, we have a situation …”

  “If It Takes Two To Tango, How Many Does It Take To Start A Fight?”

  I rushed out onto the dance floor and my stomach flipped a third time in one night. Speaking of flying monkeys from Oz … Shoving themselves right in front of Typhon’s crew were a bunch of hooded thugs, blue bandanas tied around their bare arms—the official gang color of the Brotherhood of Zeus. With their faces shrouded by their hoods, they looked like modern-day stone-cold assassins. As I made my way toward them, their leader Blue Rag and his trusty henchman Spider Face stopped right in front of Dickie Man and the Minotaur.

  Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap …

  Some of the Zeus Gang minions were punching their palms, others glaring at their red bandana’d counterparts and making lewd gestures to entice them. So far no one had drawn any weapons …

  “Time to break out the popcorn,” Garfunkel said behind his shades.

  I shook my head. The perfect storm … I immediately thought of all the innocent civilians who would get caught in the crossfire if things escalated. There had to be something I could do to disarm the situation—

  “Brotherhood of Zeus,” Dickie Man said with distaste, pointing right at Blue Rag’s face. “What are you creeps doing here?”

  Before I could respond, Blue Rag shoved him back a step and said, “We’re here for Theo Apollonia.”

  Some of Typhon’s thugs gawked.

  Spider Face turned and saw me, his hooded eyes lifting in relief. “Ah, Theo. There you are.” He tapped his matching arm tattoo. “Did you receive my message?”

  “I uh, er, uh—”

  The Brotherhood of Zeus henchman threw an arm over my shoulder as he nodded at Blue Rag. He flashed a furtive glance at Typhon’s representatives, his free hand resting on the stock of a handgun tucked in his pants. “The time to uphold your side of your bargain is at hand. I am here to escort you safely back to our base of operations.”

  “Bargain?” Dickie Man said aloud. “Base of operations?” He slid one of his hands under his biker jacket, no doubt clutching at a gun of his own as he turned to my ex-partner. “Lucy?” he asked in his thick Italian accent.

  Lucy and I exchanged a look of Oh shit.

  Silence fell over both gangs amid the blaring clash of music swirling all around us. Orion had a saying about the eye of a hurricane—Lucy and I weren’t strangers to the phenomenon.

  “Well, Theo?” Spider Face said, gripping my shoulder with one hand, drawing free his gun in the other. “You ready to go so you can fulfill your obligations?”

  I chuckled as I glanced about at all the guns and knives and brass knuckles silently glittering on the dance floor.

  “I think you have the wrong gal?” I said.

  Blue Rag glared at me. “I tire of these games.” To Spider Face he said, “Come on, bring her.” To Typhon’s gang, he said, “Let us pass and no blood shall be spilled this night.”

  Dickie Man got up in his face and shoved him back a step. “Won’t be our blood that’ll get spilled.”

  I threw up my hands. “Now, now, boys. No need to get excited. This is
just one big misunderstanding.”

  Dickie Man turned his glance from Lucy to me. “I expected better of both of you.” He tapped his forehead and gave a callous laugh. “But I see what’s going on here now. You Brotherhood of Zeus freaks finally grew the balls to fight us out in the open instead of striking at us from the shadows. Hah! How much are you payin’ these broads?” He shrugged, gave Lucy and me a disapproving shake of his head. “I’m not sure Typhon is going to forgive this little deception.”

  The Minotaur’s eyes grew wide as pie pans as they locked onto mine. I thought he might say something along the lines of “Is this TRUE?” or “EXPLAIN yourself,” thus giving me a chance to do just that.

  Instead, he roared, “It’s a TRAP!”

  I threw up my palms but weapons were already drawn, beady eyes squinting amid the DJ lights pulsing through the darkness.

  The music reached a thudding crescendo, and then all hell broke loose.

  “Panic at the Disco!”

  “We’re all gonna die!” Simon screamed as I dove to the dance floor. Club goers were already scattering as gunfire erupted. My combat instincts took over as I mentally reviewed all the exits in the place: the front door, a back door, two side doors, a cellar. I just had to think of a way to funnel everyone to them.

  I raised a hand to my ear. “LK, pull the fire alarm!”

  “As thee commands.”

  “Arachne,” I said. “Call the police and instruct the people over the speakers where the exits are.”

  “On it!”

  “Good—”

  “Behind you!” Garfunkel said.

  A hand reached for me and I pivoted and kicked upward, striking a Typhon minion wearing a red bandana across the jaw. The fire alarm started screeching then, and I watched as a drunk woman fell a few feet away from me, abandoned by her friends. I dashed to her side, helped her to her feet and shoved her toward the entrance as another hand found my shoulder. I spun, my face only inches away from the blue bandana’d Spider Face.