“But merely containing it isn't going to bring Joe back!” I turned to Mona. “Does it say anything about how to kill the Manticore?”
She had nothing. “I will do all the reading I can on the subject and let you know if I find anything. However... the odds of our being able to help Joe are very poor. I can preserve him for the time being, but... is that really what you want me to do?” She posed the question to all of us.
Kubo didn't think it the way to go but yielded to me. “Take good care of him. We'll be back when time allows, Mona.” Then, sporting a nervous grin, he added, “Or, depending on how things go, we won't.”
Germaine dove back into my pocket as we left the cottage. As we exited, I took another look at Joe and was stunned once more at the paleness that'd consumed him. Don't worry, Joe. We're going to fix you up. I promise.
I followed Kubo and Percy back into the alley, back to the parking lot outside of Yao's where Malcolm was still lounging in the SUV. When we were all seated, the old hunter yawned and sat upright. “So, we done with all this?” He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag, cracking the passenger window just enough to let his smoke escape. “I notice you didn't bring back the dead kid.”
“For now,” replied Kubo, glaring back at me. “We've got more important things to worry about, I'm afraid. The end of the world, for instance.”
Malcolm watched me as I climbed into the vehicle and couldn't keep his damn mouth shut. “That kid should've stayed out of its way. If the dark lord had a bone to pick with him, then speaking up about it wasn't the wisest thing. Shoulda stayed far away from it and quiet.”
“Real helpful for you to provide that critique now, after the fact,” I replied. “Doesn't matter, though. Mona says there might be an out. We need to kill the Manticore, have Joe drink a bit of its blood. If we do, it might cure him.”
Malcolm was unimpressed by this news and took another puff. “Swell, but that's not what we're gonna worry about. Right now, all there is is the hunt. Hear me? The hunt. We're going to hatch a new plan to get ahold of that critter, something big that'll take it off-guard. Going to hog-tie that motherfucker and then—when all the heavy lifting's done—we'll see what we can do about killing it. No promises, no guarantees, and maybe we'll just end up shuttling it back to wherever it came from.” Another, longer puff. “Though I have to say, I'd much prefer to kill it. Killing is the only way to end a hunt, in my mind. I take great pleasure in it. Never been one for catch and release.”
Percy buckled his seatbelt. “If there is a way to kill it, what do you think it is?”
Ignoring his son, the old hunter thumbed some ash into a cup holder. He was in another place, his gaze focused on some point in the distance. He was piecing together a plan of action. “This is how it's going to go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
20
The old hunter cracked his knuckles. “When dealing with a critter of this size and power, you've got no choice but to bait it. And after what we've seen, there can be no doubt that this thing reacts to violence. If you want it to follow you, the absolute best thing you can do is to piss it off. Smack it around a little bit. This Manticore won't be able to resist. It'll fly into a rage, do its best to get even. While it rampages, we'll have our trap all ready.”
Kubo rolled to a stop at a red light, his stern features rendered in the crimson glow. “You want to sucker-punch it and then have it chase us. Fine. But where do you think we should lure it to? Where can we get everything set up in time to intercept it?”
Malcolm peered into the barrel of his boomstick, wiping its edges with a cloth. “The headquarters building, obviously.”
Kubo shot him down with a shake of his head. “Are you kidding me? There's no way I could get that OK'd. It's far too risky. If the Manticore should gain the upper hand, we'll put the command center of our entire organization at risk.”
“Au contraire, this Whiro fella wants nothing more than to bring the Veiled Order to its knees. That makes your building out there perfect bait. Think about it. Lead them both right to your doorstep and then go at them real hard. Home field advantage.”
Germaine, too, weighed in. The spider sat in my lap, cleaning his head with his forelimbs. “I'm sure it could work, but what if it all goes to hell? Do your bosses have nukes stored away somewhere in that building, Kubo? A secret weapon they can use in case the monster tries to take a dump on us?”
“Lucy, Percy, what do you two think?” asked Kubo.
“I think my dad's right,” replied Percy. “Luring Whiro and his monster out there is the best way for us to get them both out into the open. If we do it just right, he may not even know we've set him up until it's too late.”
I was some time in replying. I was always quick to give my two cents on things, but it wasn't often that the Chief actually solicited my opinion. “Well,” I began, “it's only risky if we shit the bed. If we can prepare adequately and hit it hard and fast, then the risks are minimal. Let's hear the old man's plan. Once we get that giant fucker where we want it, how do we keep it there?”
“You still want to use the Binding of Hekatonkheir?” asked Kubo.
Malcolm nodded. “Damn straight. After seeing this thing in the flesh, I'm convinced there's nothing else that'll do the trick.”
Kubo gripped the wheel and fought back a groan. That he wasn't looking forward to gambling with his life was clear, but there was certainly no one else in the car who could pull off such a spell. “I've had some feelers out. I'm looking for someone with experience casting this spell. Considering the importance of this operation, I'd feel better with a true expert involved.”
Malcolm shrugged. “Either way. I need someone who can cast the binding spell. Don't care who it is, so long as they do it right. The way I see it,” he continued, peering out the window, “we're done for tonight. No sense in us trying to throw something together all willy-nilly. This thing's nocturnal, so come morning it's gonna take it easy while the sun's out. Have the helicopters chase it around tonight, try and keep it from eating anyone else until it retreats from the morning sun. By moonrise tomorrow we should have everything set. We'll lure the big lummox till it lands in our trap. Then we can take our time figuring out how to kill it. Somehow, I don't think it's going to be as easy as pullin' a trigger.” He patted the stock of his gun.
“What about Whiro?” asked Germaine, climbing onto the back of Malcolm's seat. “When he shows up, what'll we do about him?”
“We'll figure something out,” replied the Chief. “I'm going to get with my bosses and do my best to approve this.”
“And what'll we do until then?” I asked. I'd been antsy for the duration of the car ride, my mind returning constantly to the scene at Mona's. The SUV was packed with passengers, but somehow it felt empty without Joe in it. Hatching plans, planning offensives; none of it felt right without him. Not that Joe was a great tactician or a particularly outspoken guy at times like these, but this was the first time since I'd signed on with the Order that Joe wasn't a key player. There was a lot hanging in the balance here, and I knew we were all less safe without him watching our backs.
I clutched the Zippo in my pocket.
“Till then, we sleep,” said Malcolm, yawning. “Get some good rest. That way we'll be able to bring the fight tomorrow night.”
Easier said than done. I closed my eyes, listened to the sounds of the tires thumping against the uneven roads, and knew right then that I was going to have trouble winding down enough to sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
21
“I know you're blue, Lucy. What happened out there was terrible. But you've gotta cheer up.” Germaine outstretched his arms as if about to deliver a spidery hug. “Ya know, the world might be ending. Say this whole plan goes to pieces, we're gonna be left with, like... a couple of days, maybe. If we're lucky. You really want your last days on Earth to be spent brooding like this? I've been thinking that maybe we should go on a trip, you and I.
A real trip. Drinks with little umbrellas and such, none of that Tibetan shit. Enjoy whatever time we've got left and let the Chief work out all of this Manticore business. What do you say? I can hop onto the web and find us some discounted tickets.”
“Fuck off.” I pressed the pillow against my face. My head was teeming with thoughts of the Manticore, of that masked bastard Whiro, of Joe. It was a stream of video I couldn't switch off, a feed that kept on repeating despite my overwhelming fatigue. I'd been in the shit that night, had taken some serious lumps. My body wanted to sleep, to rest and heal, but my mind would have none of it.
Germaine hopped off of the bed and skittered out of my bedroom. “Suit yourself, kiddo. I'm gonna take a peek and see what two first-class tickets to Bali cost. Y'know, just in case that old chain smoker's plan doesn't come together tomorrow.”
You need to sleep, I thought to myself, staring up at the dark ceiling. Soon, there would be light coming in from the edges of my curtains, calls from the Chief, an impossibly strong monster to tangle with. I'd asked Kubo to drop me off at my place, thinking that I'd get more rest in my own bed. Apparently, I'd been mistaken. I may as well have camped out at HQ again on one of the conference room tables for all the rest I was getting.
I took a deep breath, allowing my belly to grow taut, and then held it a few seconds. Eyes closed, I thought back to Tibet, to the daily meditation I'd done. It was a long shot, but if I could shove my thoughts away and chat with Gadreel, perhaps he'd have something to say about recent events. Hoping that the demon might prove encouraging was a little much, but so long as Gadreel didn't urge me to browse deals on discount airfare with Germaine I'd have been happy to hear his take.
A half hour passed. The only thing I'd managed to do was grow tangled in my sheets. Gadreel wasn't up to talking, apparently. Eyes heavy, I rolled onto my side and buried my head beneath a cluster of pillows.
I don't know how long it took, but sleep finally paid me a visit.
* * * * *
The air was cool, scented with earth. I could feel the grass beneath my feet, could hear the way it crunched with my every step. To my back, casting a monumental shadow, was a mountain, its uppermost bounds coated in snow. From somewhere nearby, the chirping of a field cricket caught my attention.
The massive bulk of the temple stood before me, quiet, imposing. Approaching the entrance, I peered into the dark building, spying no trace of anyone. The monks were all deeper inside, perhaps, or they'd gone somewhere.
When I realized Germaine wasn't nearby, it all made sense. This is a dream, I thought.
It didn't feel much like a dream, though. It felt genuine, all of the details painted vividly and somehow sharper than my memories of the place had ever been. The dull sun, shining from behind a grey haze of clouds, looked like the genuine article. The chill of the stone floors against my bare feet was just like I remembered it.
Was it possible that I was really back in Tibet? Maybe I'd never left. Maybe... maybe that winged nightmare in Detroit had been the dream, and this rustic temple before me was the comforting reality.
I knew better.
Walking into the temple, I made my way through the main chamber and back towards the room we'd used as a dining area. Empty. The wooden tables were clean, and the air was still heavy with the scent of roasted goat.
I started back into the individual quarters, expecting to find at least a few of the monks in their rooms.
No one.
I walked for what seemed like ages, the dark corridors stretching on for impossible distances. In every room, the sight was the same. An unnatural emptiness. Everything was precisely the way I remembered it, and yet the scene was suffused with a marked peculiarity. The temple of my dream and the temple that existed in reality were two closely related things, and yet there was an energy, somewhat unwholesome, to be found in the former and absent in the latter which gradually made me feel as though I'd never actually been in this place before.
I stopped just outside the room where Germaine and I had stayed those three, long months. The chip in the top-most brick on the right side of the doorway was still there. The dingy mat I'd slept on every night was centered neatly in the room. The whole of the space was perhaps eight feet by eight. It was such a small room that nothing should have evaded my view, and yet I was on the verge of continuing on down the hall when I happened upon something I'd earlier missed.
Something thin and dark, like a snake, writhed against one of the walls. I paused in the doorway and watched as it slowly took shape. The reds and yellows of a robe entered into focus, then a bobbing, hairless head. Still more details began to manifest; a pair of thin arms held close to the chest, and two veiny hands meeting at the palms. It was the head monk, Rinpoche.
“Rinpoche?” I called out, taking a step into the room. The head monk had been a kindly man, the only one of the temple's inhabitants who'd spent any real one-on-one time with me. He'd even taught me some rudimentary magic. “Rinpoche?” I said again, my voice feeling heavy in my throat, leaden.
The figure jerked around, and the visage I saw was not that of the kindly monk. The grinning face that stared back at me was the color of pitch, with eyes of molten yellow and more teeth than any mouth had business possessing. At meeting its gaze I felt myself embraced by sheer cold.
And then, to my horror, there was recognition.
Gadreel was sitting on the floor of the room, staring back at me.
Not long after having received the demon's heart, the Veiled Order's resident physician, Dr. Sargasso, had brought in an antique he'd called the Astral Mirror. With this mirror, he'd allowed me to glimpse the true nature of the demon that now called my breast home. It hadn't been a very welcome sight, and knowing that such a terrifying thing now lived within me had taken some adjustment.
I was less frightened by Gadreel's appearance this time than I'd been the first go-round. But only a bit.
“G-gadreel,” I managed, taking a few steps backward. I bumped into the cold stone wall. It felt solid to me. Real.
The demon stood up. Had its face not been so horrific to behold, I'm sure I'd have come up with some joke about a demon dressed in monk's robes. My usual sass was absent however, the only thing keeping me from running out of that temple being the knowledge that this thing actually lived inside of me.
“You asked for me,” said the demon, outstretching his arms. “Here I am.”
I gulped. When I'd tried to calm my mind and reach out to Gadreel in bed, this hadn't been what I'd had in mind. I looked away, massaging the back of my neck and smoothing out the hairs that were now standing upright. “Uh... think we could go back to doing it the other way? You know... where I just kind of talk to you and you, uh... whisper in my ear?”
The demon was patient, I'll give him that. He stood there, his expression unmoving, and waited for me to continue. I couldn't make sense of the look it wore; I'd thought it a grin, but a mouth so exploding with razor-sharp teeth as this one was incapable of anything so innocent.
Eyes on the stone floors, I sniffed the earthy air. “So... you know what's going on out there, right?” I waved my arms a little bit, adding, “I mean out there. In Detroit. Not... not here, in... this dream.”
The demon nodded firmly, yellow eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly.
“The Manticore's been set free by Whiro. The world's going to end and my friend, Joe, is as good as dead unless I manage to kill the monster.” I took a deep breath and met the demon's gaze. It took no little strength to keep from shuddering as I did so. “Any tips?”
His cool, calm whispers chilled my blood. “If you want to win, you must embrace your demon-hood There is no challenge too great for a true demon. Even that Lord of Darkness, Whiro, will cower before you once your true power has been realized.”
I weighed his sales pitch a moment. It felt like he was trying to sell me something, but before I even knew what it was I knew the deal had an assload of strings attached. Just
because I was subletting my body to this guy didn't mean that I trusted him completely. I mean, he'd been a pretty decent ally up to this point, but talk of “unleashing” things, or “realizing” potential just smacked of his trying to gain more power. On the night of the new moon, Gadreel's influence over me was supposed to become absolute. Ever since heading out to Tibet, that hadn't been happening. Nevertheless, I couldn't rule out the possibility that Gadreel was searching for some way to completely shut me down and take one hundred percent ownership of my meat suit. “What do you mean?” I asked. “What potential do I have yet to unlock? I hope you aren't asking me to throw you the keys to the kingdom.”
The demon put his hands behind his back, eyes narrowing further until they were merely yellow slits. “If you wish to realize your true power... our true power, then you must seek out a servant of the darkness.”
“And if I do? What's it going to cost me? Somehow I doubt I'll be getting this upgrade free of charge. Nothing about this Demon-Heart gig has been free and clear. Especially the damnation part. Wasn't too happy to learn about that stipulation.” I glanced up at him. Thankfully, he'd turned around, was facing the wall now.
The demon laughed, a terrible, croaking laugh. “What will it cost? My dearest friend, your soul is already damned. You have nothing left to lose.”
Happy End of the World (Demon-Hearted Book 3) Page 9
