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

by Matthew Herrmann

  I fumed, clenched my fists at my side. “If you think I’ll exchange my familiars for Orion, you’re crazy.”

  “What if I said I could heal your mother? I understand she has a rather chronic, rather serious medical condition.”

  Mama?

  My entire body tensed as if plunged into ice water. “What do you know about her?” I demanded.

  Typhon sighed. “Only that for many years, she’s been in a very expensive, very luxurious condominium in New York with a full range of nurses and doctors checking in on her, all paid for by you, of course.”

  My mind shot to Larry’s last words—It’s your mother …

  “Did you do something to my mother?”

  Typhon recoiled from me. “I would never. I believe in the value of family and one’s duty to protect it.”

  I glanced at both of my familiars, fidgeting uncomfortably on my shoulders. “Then why are you trying to split apart mine?”

  “You don’t fully understand my offer,” Typhon said after a careful pause. “I only need your familiars—Libra—temporarily. I’m having a demonstration tomorrow morning. All will be explained then. You might find yourself changing your mind, for the betterment of all.”

  Betterment of all? What the hell did that mean?

  The desk phone rang again. Typhon pressed the speaker button after a quick glance my way. Behind me, the corpse continued to drip. “Yes Sweet-ums, be up shortly,” he said with honey-sweet sincerity. He released the button. Turned back to me. “Enough talk about business. Now, we eat.” He rose. Smiled. “Let us break bread together, get to know each other better.”

  I followed Typhon out of his office to an elevator with an Oni demon guard dressed in a lavish black suit. He stepped aside like Typhon was royalty and we got in the spacious, chrome-clad elevator. Typhon pressed the button for the next floor up—the building’s top floor.

  We didn’t speak as the elevator car rose smoothly. This was good—my mind was frantically going over my plan: basically, play nice until I could find, free and escape with Orion. Yeah … it had sounded better in the bathroom at Cracker Barrel.

  The elevator doors opened, revealing a sparse white foyer with a large sepia-toned portrait of a woman I recognized. Soft-skinned cheeks, dark hair, speckled eyes like the cosmos. Typhon’s wife.

  She looked so sweet. Except, the last time I saw her, she’d been anything but sweet. After KO’ing Orion, she’d sicced her pet Leo—the constellation—on me to retrieve the lava axe so she “wouldn’t get my blood on her leather shoes.”

  Yeah … If this woman thought she could win me over with her cooking, she had another thing coming. If Echidna was lucky, I might not throw her out of the skyscraper’s window.

  “I really love that picture of her,” Typhon remarked as he removed his tie and hung it on a coat rack by the door. “Those eyes,” he mused. “One of many earthly marvels you just don’t notice until after returning from a stint in hell.”

  The decoration of the penthouse suite was sparse and modern. Lots of straight lines and hard edges like the office. Thankfully, there weren’t any more dead bodies dripping blood on the floor.

  Heavenly smells filled the floor, and I inhaled the aroma, my eyes watering with delight. Typhon glanced over and saw my expression, winked at me. I felt like I’d just got my hand caught in a cookie jar.

  “That smells really good,” Simon said, uneasily.

  Garfunkel took a long whiff and agreed, equally uneasy after Typhon’s talk of “acquiring them.”

  Typhon led me through a modernly decorated living room and past a corridor of bedrooms to the kitchen. I quickly memorized the layout as we walked; I was on the job after all, and every plan has to have an escape route.

  In the kitchen, we came to a veritable feast laid out on a black-clothed table set for six, complete with ceramic plates, glasses of wine and cloth napkin-wrapped utensils. It seemed Typhon’s lieutenants would be joining us: the Minotaur sat at one end of the table to support his larger mass. Dickie Man sat at one side of him, trying his best not to glare at me. On the Minotaur’s other side sat Gan, impassive as he’d been at the club.

  I was about to thrust out a finger and say, “Whose side are you on?” when a female voice said, “Oh Theo, so glad you could make it to dinner!”

  I entered the kitchen wanting to do mortal combat with the bitch—she’d hurt Orion after all. But the sight of her … uh … disoriented me. Instead of the tight leather beast tamer outfit she’d worn in the Arena Pit, a knee-length goldenrod dress with white polka dots now covered Echidna’s shapely body. She wore makeup and she wore it well, and her hair was done up in an old-fashioned bun. Wearing matching black oven mitts, she carried a steaming Dutch oven past me and placed it upon the table.

  “Theo, dear, are you well?” Echidna asked.

  Typhon gave me a knowing nod before turning back to his wife. “You just have that effect on people, Sweet-ums.” He walked over to her and pecked her on the cheek, slapped her lightly on the rear.

  She smacked his hand. “Hey you,” she laughed. “That will have to wait till tonight.”

  Typhon gave an Aw shucks face and plopped down at the head of the table.

  I didn’t know if I should puke or get my vision checked.

  Garfunkel scratched his head. “Is it me or does it feel like we’re on set of the Twilight Zone …?”

  “Too scary!” Simon yelped as his tiny eyes darted across the room.

  Typhon motioned for me to sit between him and Gan while Echidna removed her oven mitts and screwed off the lid of a prescription pill container. She tapped some pills into Typhon’s palm.

  “Thanks, Sweet-ums. What would I do without you?” Typhon threw back the pills and washed them down with a glass of water. “I’ll be glad when I no longer need these … Ah, now, before we begin, I propose a toast.”

  Everyone at the table raised their glasses except me. There was no way I was going to. I’d rather try to fight my way out and hope I could find Orion on my own.

  I glanced at everyone gathered at the table, finishing on Gan. He gave the most imperceptible of nods—a sign? A sign of what? All the same, I decided to raise my glass. I really was one for dinner etiquette.

  Echidna and Typhon smiled pleasantly and Typhon began. “To old friendships … and new. And opportunities for all. Here, here.”

  “Here, here,” Echidna, Gan, the Minotaur and Dickie Man said in unison and everyone drank. Even me. The wine was good.

  Suddenly Typhon started sputtering and he exchanged his water glass for his napkin. As he lowered the napkin to his lap, I wondered if this was another sign of the illness that slightly discolored his face. It seemed Typhon wasn’t as healthy as his fit body suggested.

  I didn’t really care—I just wanted to get Orion out.

  In the silence that followed, my stomach growled irritably.

  Echidna grinned. “Someone’s tummy is hungry.”

  “Uh, right,” I said, still trying to come to terms with Typhon and Echidna’s pleasant demeanors. What the hell was going on? Where was the violence and anger and bad manners?

  Echidna clapped her hands together. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

  “Dining With The Enemy”

  Being the foodie that I was, I couldn’t not eat the feast laid before me. A few minutes into the dinner, Echidna washed down some food with a gulp of her wine and turned to me. “Theo, my husband says you’re into cooking?”

  “I dabble,” I said.

  Simon gulped and fanned his shirt collar.

  “You burn,” Garfunkel corrected.

  “Kameno tost!” came my father’s voice in my head.

  Typhon chuckled. “Spend some time alone with my wife in the kitchen and she’ll teach you a thing or two. I myself learn something new about her everyday. Living in this brave new GoneGod World is so freeing. Isn’t it, Sweet-ums?” He flashed his wife a look; she returned it with an Oh, you … look.

  “Quite the hap
py couple,” Garfunkel said, using his miniature fork and knife to cut into the food on his miniature plate.

  “Yeah,” Simon said. “Is this what we can expect from you and Orion some day?”

  GoneGods no, I thought as I forked another helping of food into my mouth.

  Ahh, the wonders of how good food can make you temporarily forget your worries. But did my host really expect me to just give up my familiars?

  They were my family and no amount of delicious food could persuade me to turn against them. Except, of course, that glorious apple pie sitting on the marble countertop just waiting to be devoured (by me). For a taste of that, I might consider entering into negotiations for their surrender.

  Yes, I’m joking. Mostly. But the food was making it difficult to concentrate on my plan. I wanted to just ask about Orion but if I showed my hand too soon, Typhon might realize I had no intention of giving him what he wanted.

  “Something on your mind?” Echidna said. “Your face is all scrunched up.”

  “I just …”

  Typhon forked a piece of meat and shared a look with me. “What? We’re not the monsters you were looking for, eh? That Wikipedia. Can’t trust everything you read on the Internet.”

  Echidna shook her head matronly. “The Internet can be such a hurtful place. More mashed sweet potatoes, dear?”

  “Oh yes please,” Typhon said, and then he looked at me. “Pass the okra, Theo?”

  I handed down the pan of okra, feeling like I was ill-cast for some strange time piece drama like Downtown Abbey but without the butlers and British accents. (Well there was a butler here but not currently serving in that capacity.)

  “Man, Echidna can really cook!” Garfunkel said.

  “Mphmphh,” Simon said.

  Garfunkel belched and wiped his chin with his miniature napkin. “Yet for some reason, I can’t help but feel like I’m being fattened for slaughter …”

  I nearly choked. Typhon just had to be married to the Martha Stewart of Others …

  I was about forego caution and skip straight to inquiring about Orion when Typhon glanced to the side, and for the first time I noticed a pair of dog-sized food and water bowls against the wall.

  “Where’s Fido?” he asked absently.

  The Minotaur fidgeted at his end of the table. He bumped the table, sending everyone’s plates, glasses and utensils clattering as he raised a napkin and wiped the food from his bull-ish lips. “APOLOGIES, sir. I left him up on the ROOFTOP for his daily WALK and to RELIEVE himself. Shall I go FETCH him?”

  “No reason he shouldn’t eat along with his family, now is it?”

  Excusing himself, the Minotaur got up and left the room, leaving us to our meal. A few minutes later he stepped back into the kitchen, a German shepherd-sized dog bounding out in front of him, its claws skittering on the hardwood veneer floor. Oh, I should probably mention that the dog had three heads: it was a Cerberus.

  Typhon beamed at me and reached out and petted the dog’s flanks as it ate hurriedly. “He’s friendlier than he looks.” Typhon sat back up and forked some food into his mouth, swallowed. “Fluffy’s around here somewhere. She’s a sphynx,” he added conversationally. “She’s really independent. Also a darn good riddler. But that’s beside the point. Theo, what do you think of Echidna’s cooking?”

  I wanted to be mad. I really did. But it was actually really, really good. Michelin star restaurant good.

  Echidna smiled pleasantly. “So Theo,” she said after a swallow of food. “What do you do for a living? Typhon tells me you steal things, but between you and me, I think there’s more to that story …”

  Typhon laughed. “I didn’t exactly use those words. She ‘obtains’ items—like that mortar and pestle you’ve been trying to locate for so long.”

  Echidna’s eyes lit up. “That was you?” She clasped her hands together over the table. “It goes so well with my kitchen. I love it—thank you so much!”

  Grinning, Typhon said, “Theo is a businesswoman. Like me, we enjoy the thrill of the chase, the hunt. Who are we to judge ourselves for doing what we love? Does that make us bad people?”

  I set my fork down. “When I steal, I do it to pay the bills.”

  “But what about the people you steal from?” Typhon asked.

  “If this is about the lava axe I stole from you …”

  His eyes flicked yellow, narrowed to reptilian slits. The metal fork in his hand contorted as easily as a twist tie, his fingernails extending into claws.

  I blinked.

  Typhon’s eyes were ordinary, his fingernails just fingernails.

  “That ol’ thing,” he said with taut lips. “Just business. You were given a mark. You recovered the item. You got paid—hopefully. That’s how business works.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  Typhon set his mangled fork aside. “Learn from your mistakes, I always say.” He took a breath. “It took your little ‘break-in’ to realize I’d gone slack on my security measures. The golems have been sacked and the Minotaur … well, he’s on probation. I’m seeing if he’s got any potential as a lieutenant.” He paused, glancing squarely at the Minotaur. “You know who else I think would make a fine lieutenant? Oh, pass the pork rinds, please?”

  “Who?” I asked, not sure why I suddenly cared. The comfort food must’ve been working its magic.

  “Why, you of course.”

  “Theo the Enforcer,” Garfunkel said, testing the words on his tongue before eating some more candied yam. “Has a ring to it …”

  “Just say no,” Simon said, filling his mouth with cranberry sauce.

  Echidna helped herself to some mashed sweet potatoes and smiled affectionately at her husband. “From what I’ve heard about you, Theo, I think you definitely have the head for it.”

  I set down my fork and glanced at Typhon and his wife. I’d about had enough of this charade. Typhon and I weren’t friends or partners or associates. He wanted me to give him my familiars, and that was never going to happen, no matter what promises he made.

  Still, what if he could help my mother?

  Mama.

  Typhon dabbed his mouth with his napkin and set it over his plate. “After you’re finished, please accompany my lieutenants out onto the roof for refreshments. Speak with them. We’ll resume our negotiation in the morning after my demonstration. I think you will find it … enlightening.”

  “Wait,” I said. I was running out of time to inquire about my partner if I was going to break him out tonight. “Can I see Orion now … to make sure that he’s alright? It might help make my decision easier.”

  Typhon grinned. “Theo, I give you my word Orion has not been harmed. And we have a rule about discussing business at the dinner table. We don’t do it.”

  I held my tongue. GoneGodDamn Typhon and his wife and her mouthwatering, gain-five-pounds-in-one-sitting meal.

  “Beers with the Boys”

  I eventually stopped shoveling food down my gullet—a rather difficult feat—and then we ate dessert. Twenty minutes and several affirmations to my familiars that I wasn’t going to hand them over to Typhon later, I was standing on the rooftop above the penthouse suite floor, very much thankful for the stretchy jeans Lucy had lent me at her campsite. A glance up at the night sky revealed no stars; we were in the city, after all.

  I say “rooftop,” but this was no plain skyscraper roof. Besides being the top of one of the tallest buildings in NYC, it had a heated, inground swimming pool. So, yeah. It also had Oni demon guards stationed at all four corners, watching me intently to deter funny business, I guessed.

  Typhon’s three lieutenants plus some unnamed thugs wearing red bandanas chatted amongst themselves while servants in tuxes carried trays of beer or liquor to them. I stood with my back against the roofline railing, glancing at the pool where Fluffy the house-cat-sized sphynx bobbed on a float. “I bet she’s a real enigma, that one,” Garfunkel said offhandedly.

  “Hey, Theo,” Simon said. “How about you
step away from the guard rail? It’s a bit windy up here.”

  I glanced over the side. It was a long way down.

  Garfunkel yawned. “Yeah, you did eat quite a bit at the dinner table.”

  “Like you didn’t,” I shot back.

  “I’m not the one leaning back against a rail sixty stories off the ground. But hey, I’m just along for the ride.”

  I was about to say something stupid when Dickie Man ambled up to me nursing a beer (I really need a better name for him …).

  “Look,” he said. “About me trying to kill you in the club. No hard feelings, right?”

  “I …” I stared at him. “Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?”

  “BECAUSE he’s Typhon’s BITCH,” the Minotaur said, chortling as he sipped a whiskey sour from a fishbowl glass. “APOLOGIES. I am not used to the presence of a WOMAN.” The bull-man hiccupped and strolled off to the other side of the rooftop, cradling his glass in his hooves.

  Dickie Man shrugged. “He’s not wrong. We all are. Typhon’s our boss and he’s made it clear that no one is to touch you in any way.”

  “OK …” I said.

  He slapped a hand on my shoulder. “Now, as soon as the boss rescinds the order, well … Let’s just say you and me got a fight to finish.”

  I feigned indignity. “Oh? You mean you’ll hide in the shadows and try to strangle me again as I walk past?”

  “Whatever,” he said. “Quit your judging. I know you got special ops training under your belt.” He threw up a hand and shuffled off. “Anyways, welcome to the team. For now. I’m gonna get me a beer.”

  I felt better once he walked off. Just me and the wind in my hair and—

  “Meow …”

  “Simon?” I said. “What are you doing?”

  “Talking to the nice kitty cat,” Simon said simply.

  The cat … I glanced at the pool but the sphynx was nowhere in sight. Which meant …

  I spun around in what I can only describe as Hollywood blockbuster slow-motion as the sphynx, balancing on top of the rail behind me with its hackles raised, swiped out at me with its paw. One of its claws nicked my hand and—