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

by Matthew Herrmann

  “Yeah. Let me guess. He double-crossed you? Pretended to be your butler but was just gathering intel on your operations?”

  My host smiled, er rather he tried to. “Gan,” he said, “is a double agent. Ever since the gods left and we found ourselves back in this GoneGods forsaken earth, we hatched the plan that he would infiltrate Typhon’s organization and report only to me.” He spoke with a beaming pride his blinded eyes could never show. “If you believed him to be a traitor to me, then he is playing his role quite well.”

  “Maybe too well,” I said. “Why Gan? Who is he to you … and Zeus?”

  “Gan was a human just like me. Until Zeus selected him as the most handsome man in Greece to become his lover.”

  I screwed up my face. “Wait, what? I thought he was Zeus’s cupbearer?”

  My employer shrugged. “He was that too. He came to love Zeus as I love him. As the true master of the earth.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I said, massaging my forehead. “Let me make sure I’ve got everything … straight. Zeus kidnapped you and Gan and several of your other acolytes when you were all human. Zeus made you all serve him against your will. Typhon dethrones Zeus; Zeus flings Typhon into hell. Zeus and the rest of the gods close down their domains and Typhon is sent to earth, along with all of you Nameless Zeus followers. You all plot to avenge Typhon for his crime thousands of years before?”

  “No, although it would be justice and not revenge. Typhon is searching for a hidden power long buried in the earth that will enable him to rule the world as a god—our goal is to prevent that from happening!”

  So Don wanted to be a superhero … I scrunched up my face. It sounded like Stockholm syndrome to me. I was conversing with a lunatic and my head hurt. Partly because he had chloroformed me and partly because this was almost too much to take in. Also, still thirsty! At least the whole Zeus gang vs. Typhon gang was starting to make sense now. And I’d be able to warp it to my benefit in freeing Orion. Don’t we all like being puppet masters every now and then?

  Of course, I was also only getting one side of the story. I cleared my throat. “Let me play devil’s advocate—or in your case would it be Hades’s advocate …? Why was Typhon’s reign so bad?”

  Don’s face contorted with rage. “Under Zeus’s rule, the world ran smoothly. There was perfect order. Humans wanted it. Needed it. Without the gods, they found themselves getting killed in wars and taken advantage of by their enemies and their enemies’ gods. When Typhon wrested control, he made deals with gods outside the Greek pantheon, with the gods of the Persians, the Africans, the Orientals. The popularity and strength of the Greek gods waned and thus began their decline as other gods rose and took their place.”

  “Sounds like evolution to me,” I said, echoing the words of my father back when he and I used to have philosophical debates. “Only the strongest of beliefs survive.”

  “The Greek gods were the strongest! They still would be had it not been for Typhon. Just imagine a world where Typhon was put in his place before his uprising. The Greek gods could still be the ruling force—perhaps they’d never chosen to leave us!”

  I shrugged. “Meh. I think the world turned out alright. All things considered.” Don didn’t appreciate that perspective but I saw it as it was. We were on two opposing sides that would never see eye to eye (and not just because he was blind, either).

  Luckily we didn’t need to.

  The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that jazz. Also … Prophesy Girl.

  “Look,” I said. “I’m getting the feeling that Typhon is close to uncovering this ‘secret power.’ Right?”

  Don nodded. “According to Gan. We wish to intervene within the next 48 hours.”

  “Then why do you need me?” I asked. “If you’ve got Gan on the inside?”

  Don sighed. “Gan has not reported back since the ‘club incident.’ ”

  “Oh.”

  My employer met my eyes. “And there’s the prophesy.”

  “Right. Of course.” I rolled my neck.

  “With Typhon’s plan coming nearly to fruition, we cannot take any more chances. You will be our new agent on the inside. If you can find the most vulnerable spot into Typhon’s stronghold, and create the necessary distraction, my acolytes and I will storm the gates and deliver the axe to you.”

  “Or,” I said, “you can use the axe yourself. According to this prophesy, Typhon dies by my hand—doesn’t mean I have to actually pull the trigger, er swing the axe. I’ll let you in. Orion and I escape. Typhon doesn’t reach this buried power. We never see each other again.”

  “Very good,” my benefactor said immediately.

  Whew. I might actually pull this off … I held up a hand. “I will need some help in order to find Typhon’s weak point.”

  “What is it you require?”

  “For one, a new cell phone to reach my people. I uh, don’t have a protection plan and I lost mine at the club.”

  My host slipped a cell phone from his pocket and handed it to me. “One of my acolytes recovered your phone from the club. You must have dropped it—”

  He didn’t get to finish. A vicious explosion from somewhere outside the mansion drowned out his words.

  “Oh Yeah!”

  I nearly fell but I’m graceful like a cat. My employer, however, did fall.

  “It’s an earthquake!” Simon shouted, pawing frantically at my hair. “Get to a doorframe!”

  “What was that?” I asked as I gained my bearings. James and Spider Face rushed up to us, concern spreading across their faces. They were helping Don to his feet when what sounded—and felt like—another barrage struck the side of the mansion. The lights flickered and we all lost our footing.

  “It’s a tornado!” Simon said. “Get to the basement!”

  Garfunkel scoffed. “Sounds more like a warzone outside.”

  Suddenly the walkie talkies at the two lieutenants’ belts broke into static interspersed with shouts for help.

  Dust sprinkled from the ceiling as another explosion sounded.

  James shouted something back into his walkie talkie and Spider Face helped Don through a nearby doorway. My eyes darted down the empty hallway before us when James gripped my arm and dragged me through the doorway and under a sturdy steel prep table of what looked to be the mansion’s kitchen. We interlocked our hands behind our necks and waited.

  When the shaking subsided, James held up his walkie talkie. “That was our perimeter patrol. The mansion is completely surrounded—Typhon is attacking!”

  Don’s face drained of all color as he lowered his hands from his neck. After a moment, he glanced at both of his lieutenants.

  “Why now?” I asked.

  James glared at me and winced, held a hand to his damaged nose. “Why do you think? Typhon knows about the prophesy too. And he knows you delivered the God-Slayer to us—one of the only things that can kill him!”

  “That makes sense,” I said. “But you do have the lava axe in a safe place, right?”

  My employer nodded uneasily. “It’s in our reliquary here, a vault room of sorts for our most precious of artifacts. I am a fond collector, as you may have guessed from my furnishings.” He gazed up at the ceiling. “The reliquary is secure, but it was never meant to stop a full-scale assault from … Typhon.”

  The walls shook again and Don began to frantically scan his surroundings. “Oh Zeus,” he said. “It’s just like before. On Mt Olympus!”

  Blue Rag steadied Don with a hand to the shoulder while Simon wailed, “Why couldn’t it have just been a natural disaster?”

  A moment later, my employer regained some semblance of self-control. “James, reinforce what’s left of the patrol. Take some acolytes with you.” He pointed to Spider Face. “If Typhon recovers the axe, all is lost. Escort Miss Apollonia and me to the reliquary.”

  Spider Face nodded.

  “Isn’t that where Typhon is headed …?” Simon said, horrified.

  “Duh,” Garfunke
l said. “We’ve got to get the lava axe before Typhon does.”

  Simon looked about to faint.

  James saluted, climbed out from under our cover and headed back to the dining hall. I climbed out before Don and Spider Face could and surveyed the kitchen. Refrigerators, prep tables, a sink … and a glass beverage dispenser containing lemonade. I was still thirsty, and I just survived an artillery shelling—I’d damn well help myself to something to drink.

  A stack of plastic cups sat next to it and I wasted no time in filling one up.

  “Come on, we must go!” Spider Face said.

  I took a sip before following after them down the corridor. Another explosion rocked the ground and I spilled a bit of lemonade on my jeans.

  “This is really good,” I said, steadying myself against a wall. “What’s in it?”

  Don caught himself as well. “Ambrosia cut with nectar from the Golden Apples.”

  I turned to Simon. “Explanation, please?”

  “Apples from the Garden of Eden. Takes away your autonomy. Makes you highly influenceable and more susceptible to others’ wishes.”

  “Every cult should have some,” Garfunkel added with narrowed eyes at Don.

  My own eyes widened. “Holy shit. The acolytes drink the Kool-Aid, and so did I … Crap.”

  “Kool-Aid?” Simon asked. “What’s that?”

  I turned to my employer and Spider Face, anger rising in my voice. “What? Am I like your slave or something now?”

  “Of course not,” Don said. “You had but a sip. If anything, it will help align you more strongly to our cause, to help you carry out your part in the prophesy.”

  I tossed the cup behind me where it spluttered up like an erupting volcano. “No thanks,” I said, trying to regain my cool, reminding myself that these Zeus crazies were just a means to an end.

  Another explosion rocked the building and Spider Face took Don’s wrist. “We must hurry.”

  I followed the two of them deeper down the hall.

  Suddenly, Spider Face’s walkie talkie squawked. “They’re everywhere!” a man’s voice said. “Typhon sent …” Static crackled. “… horde of … monsters—!” There was a scream and then the walkie talkie went dead.

  “Horde of monster?” Simon shrieked.

  Spider Face led us farther down the hall until we came to a curving corridor with wide glass windows facing the darkened outside lawn on one side; the other side of the corridor was solid stone and lined with oaken doors. Old weapons hung on the wall between the closed doors: swords, axes, shields. Ancient vases rested atop marble pedestals between the windows. My dad would undoubtedly be able to identify their time period.

  It was still dark outside, and the ground-mounted landscaping lights illuminated some tall but well-manicured shrubbery outside the long horizontal glass windows. The bushes swayed as if blown by a tempest outside. There was a droopy, short-circuited sound, and a moment later the landscaping lights went out. The next moment, the lights in the corridor went out, replaced by dim red emergency LEDs mounted in the ceiling.

  “It was a dark and stormy night …” Garfunkel said with a nightmarish red-tinted grin.

  “No it’s not,” I said.

  Garfunkel tapped his fingers in delight. “I know. I was being ironic, Theo.”

  “What’s going on?” Simon asked, gripping my hair tight, hurting my scalp as he jigsawed back and forth on my shoulder.

  “Time to draw your weapon, Theo,” Garfunkel said excitedly. “Oh wait, you don’t have one.”

  I tensed, raised my arms defensively. “Hang tight, guys—”

  Spider Face turned on me savagely. “Who are you talking to—”

  A hidden speaker crackled above us; a vibrant voice growled through it like low thunder. “Ah, Brotherhood of Zeus. I do hope I have your attention. Oh the wonders of technology in this GoneGod World. This is your adversary, Typhon. I regret that I am not present to lead the assault, but I have more important matters to attend to. My monsters should be adequate enough in obliterating you.”

  Typhon paused and I glanced over at Don’s ashen face. Typhon continued. “Farewell and remember, there are no more Heavens or Hells for souls to go to after death.” Typhon chuckled. “Don’t take it personally—it’s only business.”

  Before the intercom even crackled off, the windows to either side of us shattered inward in a spray of glass as two panda-sized creatures thudded against the other wall and rolled to a stop. They gave a prenatal snort as a horse-like head raised jerkily and uncoiled bat-like winged limbs from their cores.

  The two creatures threw back their heads and opened wide, twin supernatural whinnies splitting the air as the windows farther down on each side of us blasted inward. More creatures rolled to a stop in the dim, red-lit corridor, their shadowy limbs splaying out from their bodies, mucousy membranes dripping from their chest and wings as they whined. From outside on the lawn, even more of the creatures roared, their contours sheathed by the night.

  Spider Face turned to me, his tattoos starting to glow an eerie blueish. Static electricity crackled around his biceps like a coiled snake.

  I backed up a step as the horse-bat-thing in front of me opened its jaw, revealing a saliva-slicked mouth full of sharpened teeth. “Typhon sends his regards!” it snarled.

  “No Others Were (Seriously) Harmed in the Making of this Scene …”

  The creature leaped at me. I easily sidestepped it and grabbed a priceless vase from the marble pedestal beside me. (Sorry, dad!) I tossed it at the creature’s backside and the vase shattered like … well a priceless vase.

  “Miss Apollonia!” my employer’s voice cried out from beside me. “That was Ming Dynasty!”

  The four-foot-tall creature shrugged the vase shards off its slimy shoulder, jabbing out at my abdomen with its toothy horse jaw, its teeth brushing my leather jacket as I backstepped.

  I raised a fist at the now-silent hidden ceiling speaker. “Might as well be Duck Dynasty if those things kill us!”

  Simon gasped as he held on to his shoulder pad. “I know I shouldn’t, but I like that show.”

  Garfunkel shrugged while he hung on as well, as if what he was about to say pained him. “Yeah, me too.”

  “Guys!” I said. “Little help here.” I dodged some claws as a creature scampered up behind me. I feinted to the side and knocked the first creature’s clawed, winged limb aside after its attack missed, and then pivoted and kicked the creature closing in behind me in its large horsey snout. It drew back with a whinny while I drew in a breath and reestablished my stance. “What are these things?” The first creature swiped at me again and I kicked its paw so that it crashed into the second creature.

  “Swiper, no swiping!” I grunted as the two crashed against the wall, causing the antique weaponry on the wall to rattle in their housings. “Guys!”

  Somewhere behind me Spider Face grunted. His bluish forcefield glared in the reddish environment cast by the ceiling backup lights, creating an almost Jedi vs Sith atmosphere.

  Simon swallowed, at last speaking up. “They’re mini-chimeras.”

  “Chimeras?” I dodged a vicious blow that tore through the wall, exposing the two-by-four structure beneath the wallpaper skin. “I thought chimeras were big lion-goat-eagle-snake things.”

  “Some are,” Simon continued. “Chimeras are beasts of nightmare. The creature combinations are endless, really.”

  “So, like dogs they come in many shapes and forms … and we’re fighting the Chihuahua version of these things,” I muttered as one of the mini-chimeras threw back its head and gargled. “Simon, uh what the hel—heck is that one doing?”

  “Oh no,” Simon gasped. “Most chimeras have some form of elemental projectiles. Like fireballs—”

  The chimera whinnied and blasted forth a ball of liquidy ice at me, and I barely managed to duck it. The frothing icy mixture impacted the damaged wall like a baseball, icy breath billowing outward, chilling the air around it.

&
nbsp; “Or iceballs, maybe?” I kicked a third creature in the snoot before facing Simon in my peripheral. “Come on! You’ve got to tell me these things before one day I get myself turned into a human popsicle.”

  Don scuffled somewhere behind me as another chimera gurgled. I ducked a second ice blast while Spider Face shoved a chimera through a cracked window and back out into the night. One of the creatures leapt at me, slamming me back against the wall, next to a shortsword.

  Bingo!

  Its membrane-y wings enshrouded me, and I headbutted the creature’s noggin before its sharp tiny teeth could go for my jugular. Then I ripped the sword from its holding. It weighed like a ton (OK, a couple pounds) and I let its weight do most of the work as it cleaved into the creature’s shoulder and neck. The creature fell over but otherwise looked unscathed. The sword’s blade and shaft immediately frosted to ice, burning my fingers, and I released my grip before I was turned into … a human popsicle.

  “GoneGodDamn …!”

  Simon hummed and hawed nervously. “Yeah, my notes didn’t say anything about that …”

  The chimera with the sword in its neck righted itself and used its clawed, winglike arms to stand back up, very much unfazed. Icy breath puffed out from its teeth-littered horse mouth.

  “Behind you!” Garfunkel said. I got out of the way as another creature’s claws glinted across a marble pedestal, a strike that was meant for me. “I think that’s a pretty cool feature. Looks like they’ve got liquid nitrogen for blood. Kinda like the acid blood in Alien.”

  From my right shoulder, Simon screamed, “Too scary!”

  The first creature shook its shoulders like a wet dog, the icy sword embedded in its shoulder crisping to frosted flakes as it bumped against the wall.

  Garfunkel raised his fists like a boxing coach trying to pump up his fighter. “Grab another weapon!”

  I hefted a mace off the wall. If I thought the short sword was heavy … But somehow I managed to swing it, smashing the spiked weapon across the nearest bat-creature’s chest. It gave a whinny that I interpreted as “Ouch!”